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CJassZ&VL 

Book S 


Copyright N ” . C« 


\ 


CQEmiGHT DEPOSm 





CAPTAIN KITUK 


I 


I- t i 


I * 






• •> 





t 




Two rough-looking men stoor* not twenty feet from him with 
rifles leveled at his head, r kontispiece. See page 186. 




CAPTAIN KITUK 


BY 

ROY j/sNELL 


With Illmtrationa by 
GEORGE F. KERR 



1 

B 


/AD-Q3S 



BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
1918 



Copyright^ 1918^ 

By Little, Brown, and Company. 

All rights reserved 


AUG 17 I'SIS 


Nottoooti ^Irega 

Set up and electrotyped by J. S. Cushing Co., Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 
Presswork by S. J. Parkhill & Co., Boston, Mass., U.S.A. 




* 


©Gi.A501491 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I 

A High Resolve 




PAGE 

1 

n 

The All-Alaska Sweepstake 




8 

m 

A Caribou Farm 




22 

IV 

Launching of the Sea Wolf 




36 

V 

Caught in the Ice Pack 




45 

VI 

The Steatite Lamp 




57 

vn 

A Strange Adventure . 




70 

vm 

Nagyuktogmiuts 




82 

IX 

A Call Out op the Night 




97 

X 

The Explorer . 




105 

XI 

Lost 




117 

XII 

A Fight with Indians 




127 

xni 

Their Schooner Drifts Out 

TO 

Sea 


136 

XIV 

Saved .... 




145 

XV 

Black Nuggets ' . 




155 

XVI 

A Grateful Miner . 




168 

XVII 

Kituk a Prisoner . 




179 

XVIII 

The Rescue 




190 

XIX 

Saving the Sadie 




201 

XX 

Success at Last 

• 



212 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Two rough-looking men stood not twenty 
feet from him with rifles leveled at his 
head Frontispiece 

“That’s her, over beyond the wharf” . . page 36 

This time the rifle rang out .... 

Kituk’s strong hand was there to grasp him 
and drag him from the sea 


95 


/ 


149 











CAPTAIN KITUK 


CHAPTER I 

A HIGH RESOLVE 

‘‘Don’t you trade!” exclaimed Kituk, 
twisting his sinewy little body into a knot 
of disgust. “Don’t you do it! Your fox 
skin is worth three times that much.” 
Then, seeing that the aged Eskimo did not 
understand, he shouted, “Sulie! Sulie! 
Sulie!” (More! More! More!) Petie 
Milard, petty trader on the Arctic coast, 
seized him by the hood of his parka and 
sent him spinning into the native skin boat 
which lay alongside the gasoline schooner. 

“You stay there! ” Pete exclaimed, with a 
volley of oaths. “You’re no good to trade ! ” 

“You’re no good to the Eskimo people !” 
exclaimed Kituk, starting up as if to climb 
back on board. 

But Kituk did not go back on the 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


schooner. What was the use ? His people 
were starving. They must have flour and 
baking powder and sugar, and whether 
they must have them or not they would 
have tobacco and tea. Pete Milard had 
the things they wanted, and no other supply 
would be in from Nome for two weeks. 
What could they do but trade their valu- 
able skins to him at his own price which 
meant poverty to them for a year to come? 
And every year it was the same. Pete’s 
little gasoline schooner, slipping in and out 
among the ice floes, appeared at the Cape 
long before the mail steamer could get 
through, and always it found the Eskimo 
people out of food, ready to trade anything 
they had for a bite to eat. And Pete had 
quite lost his conscience long ago, so it was 
not a matter of great concern to him if the 
Eskimo people were kept always in this 
condition; indeed, it was greatly to his 
advantage, for if they should get a supply 
ahead some year, what would become of 
this rich spring haul of his ? 


A HIGH RESOLVE 


8 


Kituk thought all this over as the skin 
canoe rocked back and forth, bumping 
against the side of the schooner. But 
what could he do about it? Suddenly he 
sat up straight. It came to him like a 
flash. He should save his money and 
buy a trading schooner ! Then he would 
be the first one to reach the Cape/and 
not Pete Milard. And he would trade 
fairly with his people. This sudden new 
thought cheered him. The sullen look 
vanished from his face, and he pulled 
gladly at his oar as the skin canoe swung 
away from the schooner and the “Who- 
hoop! Who-a-hoop!” of the natives was 
mingled with the jangling of the bell and 
the screeching of the whistle of the depart- 
ing schooner. 

Thud, thud, Kituk’s feet came down 
on the smooth race course of ice. They 
were having a celebration of the first com- 
ing of the walrus on their way north. In 
olden days this had been the year’s event. 


4 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


celebrated with great ceremony by the 
native witch doctors. But since the white 
man had taught them another religion 
which seemed very good, they had given 
up the practices of the native priests. 
But every year they must have some 
sign of rejoicing at the sight of their year’s 
greatest food supply. This year it was a 
marathon race, participated in by all the 
youths of the village. The government 
man had laid out a course and appointed 
judges and offered a prize, — a hundred 
pounds of sugar. Such wealth ! The race 
was ten miles. Kituk, fit as a young 
caribou, had entered. Now he was near- 
ing the end; his breath was still coming 
with the even pant, pant of a reindeer on 
the trail. He was easily winner, he knew 
that. 

“Here, put this over your shoulders,” 
he heard a moment later. It was Thomp- 
son, the government man, who threw a 
heavy blanket across his shoulders. 

“Did I win.^^” the boy asked simply. 


A HIGH RESOLVE 


5 


‘‘Win?” laughed the white man, 
“You’re a great runner, Kituk. Some 
day you’ll go to Nome for the eighteen- 
mile marathon. But that doesn’t pay 
very well. Say!” he exclaimed suddenly, 
“why don’t you make up a team of these 
native dogs and enter the winter, all- 
Alaska, sweepstake dog race?” 

“I don’t know,” said Kituk, looking 
puzzled, doubting that an Eskimo might 
enter that great race. 

“Why not?” exclaimed the other with 
enthusiasm. “Why, man, the purse is 
ten thousand dollars ! ” 

“Ten thousand dollars?” Kituk looked 
more puzzled than ever. Ten thousand 
did not mean much to him. Before the 
white man came, his people had counted 
only to five hundred, and seldom so far 
as that. The man who could take his 
son on his knees and count that high was 
a great man. “Ten thousand dollars?” 
he repeated slowly. “Would that buy a 
trading schooner?” 


a 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


‘‘A trading schooner?” exclaimed the 
teacher, “I should say it would! A trad- 
ing schooner and its cargo. That is what 
it would buy ! But,” he paused to think, 
“what’s the idea? Why a trading 
schooner ? ” 

Kituk wrapped the blanket closely about 
him and sat down on the drift-wood log 
near by. Then slowly he told the gov- 
ernment man of his ambitions and his 
reasons for them ; how he had been watch- 
ing his people robbed year after year by 
the unscrupulous traders, and how he 
longed to be able to relieve them. He 
told, too, very simply, of his ambition to 
do something worth while to win back to 
his family the name which had stood for 
power among his people before his father’s 
brain had been crazed by the whaler’s 
whisky. 

The young government man looked at 
the boy with growing admiration. “I be- 
lieve you can do it, Kituk ! I really do ! 
I’ll help you pick your dog team and train 


A HIGH RESOLVE 


7 


them, and I’ll go to Nome when the time 
comes and see you through. Shake on 
it!” 

Kituk put out his hand solemnly. He 
did not understand this shaking hands 
among the white men, but he felt it was 
some very solemn way of wishing luck 
and driving away taboo, so it was with a 
strong heart that he tossed the blanket 
from him and raced away, light as a white 
rabbit, to his own home, there to sit by the 
seal-oil lamp and think of the race which 
was to be entered when the dark cold 
winter came again. 


CHAPTER II 


THE ALL-ALASKA SWEEPSTAKE 

“You’re entered.” Thompson handed 
Kituk a slip of paper. It was the en- 
trance card to the great race. It had cost 
him a pretty piece of money, this entrance 
of Kituk’s dog team, but if he won, — 
and he would win, — the grateful Eskimo 
boy would gladly pay it back, and if not, 
Kituk should never know. 

Kituk thanked the government man, 
then looked proudly at the team before 
him. They were all gray wolfhounds, 
brought at one time or another from the 
Siberian side of Bering Straits. They 
had been carefully selected, and only their 
driver and the young government man 
knew how they could run and how they 
could endure. 


ALL-ALASKA SWEEPSTAKE 


‘‘I am only afraid of Capseta/’ whis- 
pered the Eskimo boy. Capseta was his 
old and beloved leader. Never was there 
such a leader on the trail before. He 
could follow a trail wind-blown and days 
old to a cabin far from the main traveled 
road and always without fail. 

“Never fear,” said the white man, 
“He has never failed you yet.” 

The Eskimo boy smiled cheerfully. He 
knew dogs. 

There was a little cheer as Kituk, whose 
team was the second to start, took his place. 
The teams were started at intervals of 
one hour, and the time was figured for the 
hours spent on the trail. In fifteen minutes 
Kituk would be off. Already Pete Milard, 
the trader, who turned racer in winter, was 
on his way before him. 

The government man stood back in the 
crowd and watched his prodigy proudly. 
He would win ! He would ! He was sure 
of that. No racer was so strong and no 
team so enduring on the trail. All the 


10 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


other men were white men, and though 
trained down to the last ounce, they did 
not have the iron endurance of an Eskimo, 
and their dogs, bloodhounds and bird dogs 
and others of the white man’s kind, could 
never stand against Kituk’s hardy fellows 
who were but a few generations from a 
wolf. 

This All-Alaska Sweepstake was the 
great event of the season. For months 
and months the frozen ocean had been 
silent, buried beneath the glimmering ice. 
For months the mail had come and gone 
by dog team eighteen hundred miles. All 
the amusements of the year had gone 
stale. But the great dog race ! All the 
talk had centered about that for weeks, 
months; and now here it was, and here 
was the great throng of the mining city 
with hundreds who had come miles to 
see it. They waited, fur-clad, backs to 
the wind, in silence. They would watch 
the start, and then huddle about report- 
ing stations to await the returns. And 


ALI^ALASKA SWEEPSTAKE 11 


here was Kituk and his gray team, not 
so many dogs as the others, and not nearly 
so much man, so far as size goes, but they 
somehow realized that he was going to count. 

A loud round of cheers went up as the 
words rang out, ‘'Ready! Go!” followed 
by a pistol shot. Kituk was away ! From 
Nome to Candle and return is four hun- 
dred miles as the crow flies. It is farther 
by the trail. Along the coast for a few 
miles, then up windy Solomon River, then 
over chain after chain of hills, and then 
down Kiwalib River, the long trail wound 
through many a sharp ravine and wind- 
blown draw. And this was the trail Kituk 
was to travel. He must not rest unless 
his dogs demanded it. The government 
man shivered a bit as he thought of it, 
then smiled as the Eskimo boy threw back 
his parka hood and laughed at the gale 
that fanned his cheek as he swung into 
the trail. 

There are few things in the world more 
wonderful than a perfect, wind-packed 


n 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


trail and a trusty dog team spinning on 
before one, on into the great white silence 
beyond. To Kituk there was but one 
thing more wonderful that day ; the 
wonder of wonders, that he, an Eskimo 
boy, was in the great race. Before him 
the team, a gray streak, sped away. His 
hands lightly touched the sled. His feet 
made soft pitpats on the trail. His sled 
was empty ; no food, no sleeping-bag. 
Who dared not brave the worst that that 
cold land had to offer ? Not he ! He 
laughed aloud at thought of blizzard and 
wild drifting trails as he whistled to his 
leader and caught the swing of a turn in 
the trail. This was life for him ! Had 
there been only the trail and the dogs, it 
would have been enough, but with the 
prize ahead, — his heart near burst with 
joy! 

But it’s the back trail that’s the testing 
time. Then dogs and men, tasked to the 
uttermost, strain every muscle with dull 
eyes still riveted to the trail. Kituk had 


ALI^ALASKA SWEEPSTAKE 13 


made it safely to the top of the first low 
rows of hills. His eyes were still shining, 
though a driving snow told of a blizzard 
which would be in full progress by the 
time he had reached Solomon River, 
twenty miles from his goal. Again he 
laughed at the storm as he drew the string 
tight about his parka collar. Again he 
whistled cheerily to his leader. But after 
the whistle there came a worried sigh. 
Capseta, the brave, trusted, dauntless 
leader, the faithfulest friend he had ever 
known, showed signs of exhaustion. 
Every now and again he turned his head 
to look back at his master, as if for as- 
surance. He had never done that before. 
And now his shoulders were drooping a 
trifle. He was not getting the full swing 
of his body that made travel easy. Kituk 
spoke to him encouragingly. 

He paused at a roadhouse for only a 
moment’s rest. He was assured by the 
keeper that he was easily half an hour in 
the lead of Scotty Allen, a veteran racer, 


14 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


while Pete Milard was close third. He 
breathed more easily. There would be 
an opportunity to rest now and then, if 
need be, and still win. 

As he rounded the last roadhouse a 
staggering blast struck across his trail. 
The blizzard had arrived ! Solomon River, 
too ! There was no wilder river in a storm 
than Solomon. Kituk’s brow wrinkled 
again. The old leader looked back at his 
master for a second, then plunged into the 
storm. But brave as he might be, the 
old punch was not there. The traces 
slackened again and again, as he drew 
himself together for a new rush at the 
blinding storm which whirled and eddied 
about this little ship of the Arctic wilder- 
ness, like a heavy sea about a fishing 
smack. 

‘‘Whoa!” The team stopped. They 
were still fifteen miles from their destina- 
tion, which was worse than thirty in this 
storm. “It’s no use,” the boy almost 
sobbed, “He can’t make it.” 


ALL-ALASKA SWEEPSTAKE 15 


He ran ahead and cut the traces. 
Shamed at his weakness, the old leader 
slunk from his place and fell behind the 
sled, while the next dog took the lead. 
For a time Capseta kept the pace in the 
rear of the sled, but more and more he 
lagged behind. Again and again Kituk 
whistled to him and shouted words of 
encouragement. Again and again he 
spurted ahead, only to fall behind farther 
than before. At last he fell and lay prone 
in the snow, while the sled forged on into 
the milky whiteness of whirling storm. 
At last the boy turned and looked back. 
The old dog was not to be seen. There 
was but a moment’s hesitation. Could 
he leave him? Others might; he could 
not. In a second he was spinning back 
over the trail. Tenderly he picked up 
the old friend, who looked up at him and 
seemed to say, ‘‘Let me go; I’m no good, 
anyway.” But in another moment the 
dog was riding on the sled, his red tongue 
hanging out in appreciation. Even with 


16 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


this added load there was still a chance. 
Kituk redoubled his own energies and 
pushed his team to the utmost. But the 
extra load told on them. Still there was 
a chance. ‘‘A chance!” he kept saying 
to himself, and visions of that trading 
schooner, painted red and white, with 
sky-reaching mast and billowing sails, 
drifted before his eyes and turned the 
wild storm to a mildly rippling sea. 

But what was this.^ His dogs whirled 
from the trail for a moment. Then — 
“Whoa” ! He stopped the sled, just before 
the runners struck an object huddled there 
in the snow. He ran ahead and touched 
it with his toe. It was a dog; one of 
Pete Milard’s dogs. It had played out 
and had been left to perish in the snow. 1 

“Pete, the brute!” the boy said sav- 
agely; then he thought of his own hesi- 
tation a half hour before and hung his 
head. Perhaps this dog meant nothing to 
Pete. Capseta meant much to him. But 
after all, it was a dog, man’s best friend 


ALL-ALASKA SWEEPSTAKE 17 


in that frozen land, and the thought that 
one should be left there to perish after 
his life’s best energies had been spent to 
aid his master was sickening to him. 

Slowly he turned the sled to one side 
and passed on. But the vision of the dog 
huddled in the snow did not leave him. 
There was an after image. He had 
scarcely gone five rods when he stopped 
the team. 

Only for a moment he hesitated. ‘‘Ah- 
ne-ca ! What’s the matter with me!” he 
exclaimed irritably. ‘Tt’s not my dog! 
It’s not my fault that he freezes ! And 
without him I can win. With him I 
can’t.” He spoke to the dogs, but this 
time he did not allow them to start. He 
dug his heels into the snow, while a re- 
vulsion of the whole plan of races and 
white man’s ideas which helped him to 
forget his ideals and his best friends came 
over him, and turning, he walked deliber- 
ately back to the freezing dog. Picking 
him up as tenderly as though he had been 


18 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


old Capseta, he carried him to the sled. 
The race was lost. With the two dogs on 
the sled, his team made slow progress, but 
at last he appeared ploddingly around a 
corner in view of the throng, who with 
collars turned high to shelter them from 
the storm, waited the finish of the racers. 

“He’s lost,” said the young government 
man, looking at his watch, “and he was 
so far ahead at the last roadhouse ! ” 

“You can’t trust a native,” sneered the 
man next to him. 

“But he’s carrying something on his 
sled ; it’s a dog — two of them ! ” ex- 
claimed Thompson, a moment later. 

“Trust a native for that,” said the 
other man. “They’d lose a race to save 
a dog any time. That’s all they know 
about things.” 

Thompson moved away from the other 
man. He was beginning to understand. 
And when the boy came laboring up to 
him, he understood fully, and as he put 
his arm across the boy’s shoulder, he 


ALL-ALASKA SWEEPSTAKE 19 


whispered, “Kituk, no matter what others 
say, I’m proud of you. More proud than 
if you had won the race. We’ll get that 
schooner some other way.” 

At the Log Cabin Club that night there 
was a great celebration. Just when it was 
at its highest a tall man, of dignified bear- 
ing, entered the room. By his side walked 
a shy Eskimo boy. Every one was silent 
for a second. The man was the richest 
miner in Nome. He strode forward 
toward the front of the great table that 
ran the length of the room. Lightly pick- 
ing the Eskimo boy up, he stood him on 
the table. 

‘‘Boys,” he said in a husky voice, “three 
cheers for the fellow who dared to lose a 
race to save another man’s dog. Make it 
a good one.” And it was a good one. 
Those log rafters had never rung with 
such cheers before. 

Some one sprang up in the back of the 
room. “I move that hereafter every man 
who enters the race be required to bring 


20 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


all his dogs home or forfeit the race.” 
There were a dozen seconds, and the 
motion was carried. 

“And here’s for the Eskimo kid,” 
shouted a rough miner, doffing his cap, 
and starting the rounds of the room. 
Bewildered Kituk heard the clink, clink 
of gold, as it fell into the cap. More be- 
wildered than ever, he saw the man pour 
the money into a rough moose-hide sack, 
and thrust it into his hand. Then there 
was another round of cheers for the game 
little racer, and he felt himself once more 
out in the fresh night air. The govern- 
ment man was beside him. 

“What did they mean.^” Kituk asked 
hesitatingly. 

“They gave you the money because you 
taught them a lesson in kindness that 
they won’t forget,” said Thompson, clear- 
ing his throat. 

“Will there be enough to buy a 
schooner Kituk asked. 

“Not enough for that,” the teacher 


ALL-ALASKA SWEEPSTAKE 21 


said in a kindly tone, “but enough to 
make a start. You put that in the bank 
and see if we don’t find a way to get the 
rest of it!” 

Kituk felt something touch his leg. It 
was the nose of Capseta. He reached 
down and patted the shaggy head of the 
faithful old leader and was glad. 


CHAPTER III 


A CARIBOU FARM 

Down at the sand spit at Nome a few 
Eskimo people have built their homes, 
and here they live the year around, dick- 
ering with the white man and doing little 
odd jobs about the city for their living. 
One of these was Kituk’s Uncle Kitmesuk. 
And now Kituk lay on a deerskin by the 
fire, while the old uncle spun one of his 
wonderful yarns of other days, when Cape 
Nome was but a place for Eskimo people 
to drag their skin boats upon, during 
their journeys to and from the mouth of 
the great Yukon. 

It was early autumn, though the snow 
lay thick on the ground. Kituk and the 
government man had driven a few fat 
reindeer down to the city to sell to the 
22 


A CARIBOU FARM 


miners, and he was now resting before the 
return trip. 

“Ah-ne-ca! Ubagok!” The old uncle 
always began his stories so, and Kituk 
propped himself up on his elbow to listen. 
New or old, his uncle’s stories were always 
good. 

‘‘Ah-ne-ca! Ubagok ! Long, long ago, 
when I was a young man, a boy like 
Kituk, we did not bring reindeer to Sit- 
nezomie to sell, as Kituk and the Along- 
meet do. We found wild caribou and we 
trapped them.” 

Trapped caribou ? Kituk sat up all 
alert for the story. He had not heard 
this one before. 

“Unilati River this side; little river, 
this one. There is a high cliff and plenty 
of willows and fir trees. There come the 
caribou. Oh ! plenty, j)lenty caribou ! 
Many as the herds of walrus in the spring- 
time. Come one snow, come two times 
snow, then come caribou back to the 
warm land. 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


U 

“When they come we make traps, like 
the white man’s place for the horse and 
cow. Come plenty caribou. Great clubs ; 
kill ’em caribou. Plenty ‘ cow cow.’ 
Plenty meat find Eskimo. Caribou. 
Unilati River this side.” 

The story was ended. It was a simple 
enough story from a simple old man. 
But Kituk knew it was true. Kitmesuk’s 
stories were always true. 

Something seemed to be stirring in 
Kituk’s mind. An idea which suddenly 
burst out full-bloom. He was away in 
an instant to tell it to Thompson, the 
goyernment man. 

Long and enthusiastically he talked, 
unfolding the plan which had but so lately 
blossomed out in his sunshiny little soul. 

“And we wouldn’t kill them! We 
wouldn’t kill them!” he said excitedly. 
“We’d keep them and have a caribou 
farm. And when they were tame enough, 
we’d sell them to the white men, and we’d 
have our schooner, and it would have 


A CARIBOU FARM 


25 


white sides with red trimmings, and masts 
long and slim, and sails of real canvas. 
Ki-ai-yi-yum-yah-yah ! ” He began to 
sing his Eskimo song in his excitement. 

“I believe you might do it.” The gov- 
ernment man spoke slowly. “You might 
have to go farther than your uncle used 
to, for the caribou are scarcer these days, 
but they still go south, and there is yet 
time to get there and build the corral. 
Quite likely there is some deserted mining 
camp close enough to furnish some of the 
building material — but — ” He paused 
for reflection, “Do you realize what selling 
a herd of tame caribou to a white man 
would mean to your people.^” 

Kituk looked bewildered, but did not 
answer. 

“Do you know of a white man who owns 
a reindeer herd.^^” Thompson asked. 

“No,” Kituk answered, still bewil- 
dered. 

“Well,” said the government man. 
“The go’^nment has not thought it safe 


^6 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


to allow the Eskimo people to sell their 
reindeer to the white man. If it were 
you, it would be all right; that is, if all 
your people were as careful and thought- 
ful as you, but you know there are many, 
many of your people who would trade 
their last deer for some pretty bauble, 
and then when spring came they would 
be starving. We hope that the time will 
come when there will be no more hunger, 
for there will be reindeer for all ; but that 
time may never come if unscrupulous 
white men come into possession of herds 
of reindeer and domesticated caribou.” 

Kituk went home very thoughtful. His 
scheme had seemed such a good one, and 
he was so hopeful of gaining his schooner 
in this way, but he saw now that to win 
one point for his people and to lose another 
was worse than useless. 

But the government man was hardly 
out of bed next morning when the boy 
came bounding into his room, his face 
shining. ‘‘The government will buy 


A CARIBOU FARM 


27 


them! The government will buy them!” 
he shouted. 

Thompson rubbed his head thought- 
fully for a moment. ‘‘Oh, yes, the cari- 
bou,” he said. “Is that so? Tell me 
about it.” 

Kituk told him in a few words how he 
had gone to the great government chief 
who was then in Nome, and how the chief 
had promised to buy the caribou if they 
could be caught and tamed. When he 
had finished, Thompson remembered hav- 
ing heard the chief say only a few days 
before that if they could secure some 
native caribou to mix with the herds, it 
would make a healthier and more vigo- 
rous stock. 

“I believe I’ll go with you,” said 
Thompson; “it’ll be a grand outing.” 

Kituk was silent in his gratitude. 

“Yes,” said the teacher, after another 
moment’s thought, “I’ll go. The chief 
can send Zook up to take care of my work 
at the Cape while I am gone. His school- 


28 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


house burned down, and he is doing noth- 
ing at present, anyway.” 

Two days later, with three well-laden 
reindeer sleds, the Eskimo and his teacher 
swung out in the trail once traveled by 
the racers, and headed toward some point 
miles and miles away, where the caribou 
were said to still pass on their southward 
journey. 

^ Kituk lifted the battered field glasses 
to his eyes and anxiously swept the hori- 
zon. Every morning for the last ten days 
he and the teacher had climbed to the 
summit of this hill and scanned the hori- 
zon for some signs of the approaching 
caribou. They had seen, instead, the 
broad sweep of whiteness in the fore- 
ground, an occasional dotting of black- 
willow bushes standing out against the 
sheet of white, and far in the distance, 
row on row, the great white mountains 
smoking with snow, but no caribou. No 
caribou ! 

Each day Kituk’s face had grown a 


A CARIBOU FARM 


29 


little graver. Each day he climbed with 
more anxious step to the summit. Every- 
thing was in readiness; the trap built on 
the side of a rocky cliff among scrub 
willows and all covered over with brush 
was set. Their rough cabin, hid away in 
the distance, was prepared for a winter’s 
comfort. All was ready. Would they come ? 

Suddenly the boy’s face lightened. All 
he said was, ‘‘Ah-ne-ca!” as he handed 
the glasses to his friend. Carefully he 
pointed out the direction and waited. 
The government man studied the distant 
hills for what seemed a long time to the 
impatient boy. Then he said, ‘‘They’re 
coming ! ” 

And they were coming! Swift as the 
wind, a great herd of caribou were sweep- 
ing down the river valley. Not so great a 
herd as in days of old, but great enough 
to wreck their little corral and go sweeping 
uncaptured to their southern home. They 
had not thought of this possibility. Now 
there was but one chance. A narrower 


30 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


valley split oflF to the right, half a mile 
from the spot of their corral. Should 
part of the herd branch off at this point, 
they might retain the remainder. 

They were coming. Now they could 
hear the snap of hoof on hoof and the 
clash of antler on antler. It was a sight 
never to be forgotten, a thousand splendid 
creatures bearing down before the wind, 
silent save for the clash of hoof and horn. 
The hearts of the waiters beat high. 
Could they divide them.^ There was one 
lone dog with them, but he was a collie, 
useful to deer herders as to sheep men. 
But these wild brown creatures of the 
hills and the tundra ! Could they be 
directed Would they divide, or would 
they plunge on and destroy all ? Now 
Kituk saw a white schooner with red 
trimming, reaching masts, and bellying 
sails float before his vision, and now he 
saw it fading in the distance, while he 
waited with impatient half-dread the on- 
coming of the caribou. 


A CARIBOU FARM 


SI 


Now they could hear the grating breath 
of the bull leader, and could see the cari- 
bou dip their great antlered heads to 
scoop up a mouthful of snow as they ran. 

Now they had entered the draw. And 
‘‘Now!” whispered the teacher. Like 
three demons the men and the dog charged 
toward the passing herd. There was a 
tremendous clash, clash of antlers, caribou 
piled on caribou for an instant, then there 
was a mad rush up the opposite steep 
bank. The herd divided, plunged on ; the 
smaller portion into the corral, the larger 
up the steep bank and away on the other 
side. 

In a moment more, before the great 
leaders discovered they were trapped and 
rushed back on their trail, the men had 
quickly closed the gap and piled it high 
with willow brush till no opening showed, 
and the caribou rushed wildly in a circle, 
now and then trying the willow wall with 
their antlers, but all to no avail. 

For a moment an unhappy feeling came 


32 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


over the Eskimo boy at thought of trap- 
ping a wild thing. But he soon realized 
that ere many months they would be free 
again, roaming the tundra with thousands 
of their own kind, the reindeer, and he 
turned to his teacher with a glad smile. 

“Next spring,” he said, “we will have 
the schooner.” 

That night, after a frugal meal of baked 
beans and sour-dough bread, Kituk sat 
beside the glowing Yukon stove with one 
elbow on the table, thinking, and in his 
mind once more came the schooner with 
its masts and sails. He heard the whistle 
scream as he pulled the string, and the 
bell clang as he pressed the button with 
his foot. He felt the twist of the restless 
wheel as he headed her landward before 
his own native village; heard the glad 
“Who-hoop, who-a-hoop!” of the native 
canoe men as they pulled alongside. He 
smiled as they called him Captain Kituk. 

But then the vision changed, and he 
saw before him the months of tireless toil 


A CARIBOU FARM 


33 


which he and his teacher must endure 
before the goal was won. There was the 
moving of the portable corral every day 
that the caribou might have moss, no 
mean task in itself. There was the bring- 
ing of trained reindeer to assist in the 
work of taming. There would be blizzards 
when the snow must be kept from building 
trestles over the corral to free the wild 
captives. There would be wild, prowling 
wolves. Oh, yes, there would be battles 
royal with darkness and storm and the 
beasts of the Arctic wilds. 

But again the vision changed, and he 
sat among his people as he had before, 
in the hard and cruel springtime. No 
food in the caches, no fish beneath the 
shore ice, no seal in the sea, no great 
white bear prowling about on the ice fioe, 
no walrus coming from the south, no 
white man’s food, nothing but hunger 
and the wailing of the starved dogs. Once 
more the hunger gripped him. Once more 
his cheeks grew thin, and he saw the 


34 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


pinched faces of little children. Then he 
was back at the corral fighting with 
weather and storm and darkness and wild 
beasts, and his blood tingled as it coursed 
through his veins. They would win ! 
This time they would ! Involuntarily his 
hands clenched as he stared into space, 
and his face, set like a bronze statue, re- 
fiected the thoughts that burned them- 
selves upon his brain. The teacher saw 
and smiled. 

“Yes, Kituk,” he said, a new note of 
kindness in his voice. “Yes, my boy, 
this time we will win.” 

For a long time they sat in silence, each 
busy with his own thoughts. At last the 
government man spoke. “There’s a 
schooner on the beach at Port Clarence. 
She’s the Sea Wolf,'' he said meditatively. 
“I shouldn’t wonder a bit if she could be 
bought.” 

“Is she painted red and white Kituk 
asked eagerly. 

Thompson threw back his shoulders and 


A CARIBOU FARM 


35 


laughed a good long honest laugh. ‘‘No,” 
he said at last. “She’s all white now, but 
a bit of red paint doesn’t cost much. It’s 
the workmanship of her hull that counts. 
She’s built by a master, and her keel is 
of ironwood. They say the ice can’t break 
her.” 

Kituk knew little of white men’s ships 
beyond the steering of them, and he was 
thankful that he had so wise a friend and 
companion. 

“And I shouldn’t wonder if the West 
Coast Trading Company had overstocked 
with provisions this year,” said Thompson, 
“and if they have, and we can clear from 
Port Clarence, we will have half a day’s 
start of any schooner on the coast. Well, 
to-morrow it’s work for us, so let’s turn 
in.” He began untying his “mukluk” ^ 
strings, and they were soon sleeping peace- 
fully within their cabin while the Great 
Dipper circled about in the northern sky 
and the North Star shone directly overhead. 


1 Sealskin boot. 


CHAPTER IV 


LAUNCHING OF THE SEA WOLF 

‘‘That’s her, over beyond the wharf.” 
Thompson shoved back the hood of his 
parka and drew in a long breath, as 
he and his companion mounted the last 
low hill between Gold Run and Port 
Clarence. 

With wildly beating heart and glowing 
cheeks, the Eskimo boy shaded his eyes 
and looked away for a first glimpse of the 
schooner which was already his. 

The hard, long winter with its freezings 
and darkness, with its struggle with wolves 
and wolverines, with its sleepless nights and 
wind-blown days, were all over. The cari- 
bou were now in the government’s herd 
and part of the money safely in the hands 
of the former owner of the schooner, while 


LAUNCHING OF SEA WOLF 87 


the remainder had been invested in a 
goodly supply of trading stock which, true 
to Thompson’s prophecy, was still in store 
at Port Clarence. There remained but 
the task of overhauling the schooner and 
getting her to the mouth of the bay, ready 
for the break-up of the vast ice floe which 
now crowded the ocean. But this was 
to be no small task, and Kituk once more 
tightened the string to his parka and 
whistled to his dog team, as they plunged 
down the last hill and into the village 
which lay beyond. 

Then followed happy days of scrubbing, 
painting, rerigging, testing out the engine, 
the thousand and one things that must be 
done to a schooner which has braved a 
winter in the Arctic open. But it was 
such glad work, and so cheerfully done, 
that there was danger that neither Kituk 
nor his teacher would be flt for the sailing 
when that great day came. 

At last she was all rigged and ready, 
and you may well guess the white hull was 


38 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


trimmed with a rim of red, while the mast 
displayed alternating stripes of red and 
blue to the first cross-arm. Oh ! she was 
a trim little vessel, you may be sure. 

But when the time came when she must 
be hauled to the mouth of the bay, some 
two miles away, this was a serious moment 
indeed. All the Eskimos of the village 
were on hand to push with a will, and 
with them were all their dog teams, ready 
to pull their last pound. But when every 
ounce of strength was thrown upon the 
dead weight of the schooner, she moved 
but a yard or two, and the strength so 
hard to expend evenly was exhausted. 
The dogs slipped, slid, and howled, while 
the Eskimos, puffing and panting, paused 
to rest. The partners suddenly realized 
that there was more to a white man’s 
schooner than they had counted upon, 
and unless help came from some unknown 
quarter, their schooner would still be in 
Port Clarence when Pete Milard went 
tooting up the coast in the clear water 


LAUNCHING OF SEA WOLF 39 


of the ocean channel, which opened up 
much sooner than did the frozen bay. 

Panting, the Eskimo boy and his teacher 
sat on an ice bowlder and thought. But 
think as they might, they could find no 
way. There was not another ounce of 
power in the village and no tackle to give 
their power greater advantage. To at- 
tempt to do the thing as it stood would 
mean only death to their dogs and noth- 
ing gained. 

As they sat thus by the stubborn 
schooner, some one shouted ‘‘Tomai ! To- 
mai ! ” which is the call for arriving 
strangers. Looking up, the boys saw a 
splendid dog team come over the rise 
above the Port. Behind it trotted a stal- 
wart form dressed in splendid furs. 
Thompson recognized at once the man 
who had stood Kituk on the table and 
proposed three cheers for him on that 
eventful night after the great race. His 
heart bounded. Perhaps here was aid. 
The dog team? No, that was not help 


40 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


enough. But here was the richest, most 
powerful man in all Alaska. Why should 
he not be able to help in some way? The 
teacher dared hope he might. 

The sled was soon alongside. The great 
man shook hands warmly with the teacher, 
patted Kituk on the head, and shouted 
“Hello!” to the rest of the natives. 

“What are you trying to do here?” he 
asked in his gruff way. ^ 

Thompson told him in a few words their 
aim and their plan. 

“Well, I should say you ought to suc- 
ceed!” The great man spoke warmly. 
“Pete Milard is a thief, a petty larceny 
thief ! Nothing less than that ! Emow 
what he did last summer, when I sent 
eggs and potatoes to my men at Tin City ? 
Took the two lower layers out of the case 
of eggs and the center out of the crate of 
potatoes ! That’s what he did ! He’s a 
petty larceny thief ! That’s what he is ! 
If you boys get afloat, you can haul my 
freight, all of it, see ? I’d trust that 


LAUNCHING OF SEA WOLF 41 


Eskimo boy with my life. If a dog’s life 
is worth a lot to him, more’n money, then 
I’d trust him with anything. See.?^” 

There was a shout from the office of the 
Trading Company. 

“Guess it’s a telephone call for me,” 
the great man explained. “You come 
along with me, and I’ll see what I can do 
for you in a minute.” 

Kituk followed Thompson and the great 
man to the office of the Trading Company. 
He had high hopes of aid from this man 
who did everything he wished because he 
had money to do it with. And if he did 
not help.f^ Kituk’s heart sank. Pete Mi- 
lard would reap again his ripe harvest of 
graft from the Eskimo people, who did 
not know that Kituk had the schooner 
and was coming. There was no way to 
let them know, for in places the trail was 
already overflooded and dangerous. One 
day late would be as bad as a month, for 
already Pete would have robbed one vil- 
lage and gone on to the next. 


42 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


‘‘Hello! Hello! Who’s that you say?” 
The great man was at the telephone. 
“Pete Milard? Oh! Yes, what is it? 
What ? Horses at Gold Run ? Yes, I 
got two teams there. What ? Want them 
down at Sinrock River to pull your 
schooner off! Wait a minute. Can you 
have them? Let me think.” 

Kituk heard the words. His heart sank. 
If Pete secured the horses, it would mean 
defeat to him and to his teacher and to his 
people. 

“No! No!” the great man sputtered, as 
if a sudden thought had come to him. 
“You can’t have them. Of course you 
can’t. I’ve got business for those horses. 
Important business. No ! No ! Don’t 
make any difference ! No ! I say No !” 
He hung up the receiver. 

“Now I tell you,” he said, smiling 
calmly and speaking in a tone of voice 
that he might have used in ordering his 
steak browned for supper, “I’ll tell you 
what you boys want. It’s a team or two 


LAUNCHING OF SEA WOLF 43 


of horses, a team or two of horses ! I’ve 
got two good teams down at Gold Run. 
Not doing a thing in the world ! Not a 
thing ! Just rusting in the harness. 
That’s what they are. I’ll have the boys 
bring them over in the morning. See?” 

‘‘But — but — ” Thompson stammered, 
“I thought you said you had impcHant 
work for them?” 

“Sure ! Sure !” the other smiled. “Ain’t 
that important business, getting that 
schooner of yours out to water ? If it 
ain’t, what is?” He laughed a great, 
strong, good man’s laugh, and went into 
the hotel. “They’ll be here in the 
morning,” he shouted back over his 
shoulder. 

And they were. And with the great 
strong horses in the harness and with 
many a glad “Who-hoop! Who-a-hoop!” 
from the natives, the schooner went crash- 
ing away over the ice to the very brink 
of the dark waters. And when, two weeks 
later, the ice floe cleared away, she settled 


44 


CAPTAIN KITUK 




gracefully into the salt sea, as trim a ship 
as ever Eskimo boy dreamed of. 

“No, you can’t pay me.” The great 
man laughed, as Thompson came to him 
after the vessel was afloat. “You can’t 
pay me. That boy of yours paid me 
more than a year ago when he brought 
in another man’s dog and lost his race. 
Just by the way, Scottie Allen was driving 
my team when he won the race. Scottie 
won fair. He brought in all his dogs, but 
he didn’t bring in anybody else’s, so I 
figure your boy has some of that prize 
money coming still, and if he needs any 
of it, send him round. And remember, 
you haul all my freight. All of it!” 

He shook the teacher’s hand, and shout- 
ing to his dogs hurried on up the beach 
toward Tin City. He hoped to touch 
this point and return before the shore 
ice broke up and destroyed the trail. 


CHAPTER V 


CAUGHT IN THE ICE PACK 

When a schooner of the Arctic, newly 
painted and rerigged, escapes from the 
nine long months of ice-locked solitude, 
she cuts the water as gleefully as some 
living thing. And the Sea Wolf, with 
Kituk at the wheel, sprang forward in 
the icy water that first day of June as 
keenly as the nightingale cuts the dark 
air as she shrills her spring song. 

There was joy in every breeze. The 
schooner, laden to the port with things 
the Eskimos most need, responded to the 
least touch of her young captain’s hand, 
while the teacher stood aloft and took in 
the fresh air of spring and watched the 
white ice shore of Port Clarence fade from 
sight as they entered more and more into 
the dark waters of Bering Straits. 


46 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


Here and there a daring little sea parrot 
dipped into the icy waters or went skim- 
ming along over the surface toward his 
summer home on the Diomede Islands. 
Here and there, too, a dark seal rose to 
the surface, only to drop suddenly from 
sight at sound of the pop ! pop ! of the 
gasoline engine. It was a great day for 
the two young adventurers. It had been a 
great year for the young teacher; a great 
year in the open, with plenty of rough 
work and many a wild adventure. He was 
returning to his work at the Cape with 
renewed strength, interest, and courage. 
And as for the Eskimo boy, was it not 
enough that his dearest dream was 
realized, the owning of a boat and the 
privilege of regaining the lost estate of 
his once renowned family, and more than 
all that of helping his people ? What 
wonder then that they sang at their tasks, 
as the little schooner cut the waters by 
Cape York and the mouth of Lost River, 
bound for Bering Straits and the Arctic. 


CAUGHT IN THE ICE PACK 47 


But there is many a day of sunshine 
that ends with a night of storm. They 
had hardly reached Cape York when an 
offshore wind began to roughen the waters 
into a promised gale. They did not fear 
the storm, for, calked to the deck, the little 
schooner could weather any gale. But the 
shore ice ! Two miles of it had been 
melting and rotting for a month now, and 
a day of wind might shake it loose from its 
mooring and shut them securely out from 
their goal. 

Anxiously they waited the drift of the 
wind. The current was strong, and they 
could make little progress against it. This 
would change, but would it be too late.^ 

Suddenly, Kituk seized the old field 
glasses. Anxiously he scanned the shore. 
‘‘See ! ” he exclaimed, thrusting the glasses 
into the hand of his partner. Thompson 
looked. Close to the shore appeared a 
broad, black crack which told plainer 
than words that the great mass was 
moving slowly out to sea. 


48 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


‘‘We must get around it!’’ exclaimed 
Thompson, jumping to the engine and set- 
ting her at full speed. “If we can get just 
ahead of it, we can put in at Cape Prince of 
Wales and do our trading while it passes.” 

Chug, chug, went the engine. Gleefully 
through the water shot the schooner. 
They were gaining inch by inch, yard by 
yard, mile by mile ! Thompson figured 
for a moment on a piece of paper, then 
settled down contentedly. 

“Ah, well!” he sighed, “It’s all right, 
Kituk. We’ll make it by nearly an hour, 
if nothing goes wrong.” 

Kituk grinned as he turned the wheel 
this way, then that, and dreamed of the 
happy “Ah-ne-cas” and “Matnas” of his 
people as they saw him, a native boy of 
their own village, the proud owner of a 
white man’s gasoline schooner, and the 
glad “ Ill-e-can-e-muks ! ” when they 
realized that he was truly going to trade 
honestly and not take the slightest advan- 
tage of their necessities. 


CAUGHT IN THE ICE PACK 49 


But suddenly something caught his eye. 
Quickly he seized the glasses and looked 
away toward the shoreward side of the 
great mass of ice, which was now some 
rods out to sea. He uttered a groan 
and passed the glass to his companion. 

‘‘Some fool white man!” Thompson 
exclaimed. Close to » the shore side, seek- 
ing in vain for some passage to the land, 
was a lone man driving a dog team. 
Kituk knew that “some fool white man” 
was right, for no Eskimo would attempt 
to travel along the shore ice at this danger- 
ous time of the year. 

Only one thing could be done. The 
man had not sighted them, so low lay 
their vessel to the water. Thompson 
jumped to the whistle cord, and blew 
three long blasts. The man looked up. 
At last he caught sight of their masts. 
Then, wildly waving his arms, he turned 
his dogs toward the schooner. It was a 
slow task picking a passage over the honey- 
combed ice to the schooner two miles 


50 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


away. Twice the stranger was faced by a 
yawning chasm of black water and was 
obliged to make a detour to find a safe 
passage. Thompson studied his watch for 
half an hour, then closed it with a snap 
and a groan. ‘‘It’s all over now,” he 
sighed. “We can’t beat it now, and if 
Pete gets the inside of it we lose.” 

His sorrow and that of his companion 
was somewhat abated when five moments 
later they recognized the team and the 
man they were waiting to rescue. It was 
their friend, the great man of Nome ! He 
had gone to his plant at Tin City and, 
attempting to return, had been carried 
out to sea. 

“You’ve saved my life ; I couldn’t swim 
a stroke!” he thundered cordially, as he 
tumbled on board, followed by his dogs, 
“and I’ve lost you your chance. It’s 
too damn bad ! What fools we white 
men are!” he said, suddenly sobered at 
realizing the plight in which he had put 
his young friends. 


CAUGHT IN THE ICE PACK 51 


‘‘Oh, that’s all right,” said Thompson, 
with a smile. “We’ll find a way. We 
always have, haven’t we, Kituk?” 

Kituk smiled and returned to his wheel. 

“Yes, there must be a way,” said the 
great man, looking off at the ice fioe. 
“When it reaches the Straits, probably it 
will break up with the turn, and you can 
dodge through.” 

For three hours they sat silently watch- 
ing the ice as it opened and split here and 
there, or was broken by the waves. The 
sun was shining day and night now, and 
no one thought of sleep. At last Thomp- 
son fried eggs and some fresh smelt, and 
they ate a hearty meal. 

“See!” exclaimed the great man, as 
they came back on deck. “There’s a 
passage all the way through to the shore.” 

It was true there was a passage, but both 
Thompson and Kituk hesitated to answer. 

“Why don’t you try it.^” asked the rich 
man. 

Then, their fears overcome by his con- 


52 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


fidence, they headed the schooner toward 
the mouth of the channel, and setting 
the engine at full speed, shot into the 
narrow passage. As far as the center of 
the floe they went in safety. Kituk 
suddenly rang the bell signal for slow, and 
in a moment more the engine was dead. 
They were silently surrounded by giant 
ice cakes, which closed in on all sides like 
some police posse about a captive. 

“Well,” said the magnate, looking help- 
lessly about. “Well, I guess I’ve done 
you all the damage I can. I’m going to 
bed ! I don’t know much about ships, 
but if you need me don’t hesitate to call 
me. Good night.” 

The boys smiled at his good humor and 
prepared to take turns at the watch. 

By the third watch of the night they 
were well within the Straits. The off- 
shore wind had driven the floe over toward 
the Little Diomede Island, and already 
they could hear the cakes bumping on its 
rocky shore. 


CAUGHT IN THE ICE PACK 5S 


“Going to be bad,” said Kituk, as 
Thompson relieved him. “Shall I stay 
on deck.f^” 

“No, I’ll call you if you are needed,” 
said the teacher, wrinkling his brow. 

It did look bad indeed. The Little 
Diomede is scarcely more than a granite 
bowlder jutting out of the sea. The ice 
floe was crowded hard against it, and 
already the cakes were gliding upon one 
another and crumbling down in piles with 
dismal grinding falls. Thompson was to 
learn more about ice floes in that three 
hours of watch than ever before in his 
life. The giant cakes and ice slabs, some 
of them rods square and six or 'eight feet 
thick, rose high in air and, buckling, 
tumbled headlong, burying what was 
before them tons deep beneath. Should 
one of these rise above the Sea Wolf, noth- 
ing could save her. Scarcely would the men 
escape with their lives. Perhaps not that, 
for it was far to the granite bowlder, where 
ascent might prove impossible. 


54 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


Slowly the midnight sun rose from its 
resting place on the crest of the sea, and it 
looked as though morning was coming at 
midnight. Slowly the floe drifted, drifted 
with the current toward the North Pole. 
Anxiously Thompson watched the great 
cake of ice which lay between them and 
disaster. Others piled upon it, but like a 
thing set there as guard, it held firm, 
neither buckling nor shifting from its 
place. At last, just as he heard Kituk 
begin to move below, he felt the floe ease 
away. The grinding sound ceased, and 
he knew that they were drifting into the 
Arctic Sea. 

‘‘Where are we.^” The magnate poked 
his head from the forecastle and greeted 
the teacher. 

“Somewhere in the Arctic, thank God,” 
Thompson said fervently. 

‘‘We’ve a right to be thankful,” said 
the other. 

Three hours later, after they had eaten 
breakfast, the magnate seized a pike pole 


CAUGHT IN THE ICE PACK 55 


from the deck, and leaping over the gun- 
wale, began to pole the ice from the prow 
of the schooner. The ice, once in the 
broad ocean, was spreading out. Seeing 
his good work, the others joined him, 
and soon each, coat oflF, sweating and 
pufiBng, was busy doing his best to 
free the schooner. Once free from the 
floe, they might hope to make their 
way back to Cape Prince of Wales. 
And in due time they were out in the 
open sea and pop, popping back to the 
home Thompson and his Kituk had left 
months before. 

‘'You do the trading,” said the magnate. 
“I’m going to get some more sleep. I 
can’t get back to Nome now, and I’m 
going the rounds with you.” 

I don’t need to tell you of the greeting 
the boy mariner received in his native 
town. Pete Milard had not arrived. No 
schooner had ever reached the Cape so 
soon, and the welcome and the gratitude 
were all that Captain Kituk had hoped, 


56 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


and very much more. Wild and long were 
the shouts, as, at last, with a bountiful 
cargo still left, they sailed away for Point 
Hope and other needy points on the Arctic 
mainland. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE STEATITE LAMP 

In one corner of the "‘inni”, taking 
advantage of the square of light that fell 
from the transom-like opening in the roof, 
an aged Eskimo woman sat sewing at a 
new ‘"mukluk.” Her husband, the old 
Kitmesuk, was an industrious hunter. He 
traveled far and wide in search of the 
seal, the white fox, and the great white 
bear. His mukluk soles were soon worn 
through. Old Kitmesuk himself was 
sitting by the seal-oil lamp, mending his 
sealskin net, which was to be set on the 
sand bar in the springtime to catch the 
darting salmon. Thompson, the govern- 
ment teacher, was curled up in the corner, 
dreamily watching them. He enjoyed 
these visits to the homes of his Eskimo 


58 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


people. There was something so snug 
and busy about them that they reminded 
him of his boyhood days on a New Eng- 
land farm. There, he remembered, he had 
sat by the hour near the fire while his 
grandmother knit at a stocking, and his 
grandfather fussed away at this thing or 
that. 

Half thoughtlessly the government man 
drew his knife from his pocket and, finding 
nothing to whittle, began scraping the 
hard-caked seal oil from the lamp which 
burned by his side. The bowl-like lamp, 
swimming with seal oil, gave forth a 
sputtering blaze along its edge and seemed 
to scold at him as he worked. 

Suddenly he sat up straight with a low 
exclamation. He had cut through the 
caked oil and had come to the surface 
beneath. It was not what he had expected 
it to be, a mere thing of clay. It was a 
genuine steatite lamp ! 

Without further revealing his discovery, 
he began speculating on the history of this 


THE STEATITE LAMP 


59 


rare vessel. These lamps had practically 
disappeared from the Arctic mainland, 
having been gathered up by traders and 
miners for museums and private collec- 
tions. Where had they come from in the 
first place ? Who knew ? 

‘‘Capsinie?” (How much.^^) he said to 
Kitmesuk, pointing to the seal-oil lamp. 

The old man showed all his white teeth 
in a grin, and exploded into a great string 
of Eskimo dialect, of which Thompson 
could catch only “Wunga pezukpeet’’, 
which means “I want”; but what it was 
the old man wanted he was unable to tell. 

Fortunately at this moment a head 
was thrust in at the entrance of the inni 
and a cheerful voice shouted “Hello !” It 
was Kituk, “Captain Kituk ”, as people 
had come to call him since his fortunate 
venture in caribou the summer before, 
which had won him the sole ownership of 
the good schooner Sea Wolf, 

Thompson told the boy what he had 
been trying to ask Kitmesuk, and after 


60 CAPTAIN KITUK 

talking a long time to the old man in his 
own language, Kituk turned again to the 
teacher. 

‘‘He says he won’t sell,” said the boy, 
smiling. “He says he has had it a long 
time and he will sell anything, his fox 
skins, his beaver skins, anything, but not 
this seal-oil lamp.” 

Thompson was disappointed. He had 
wished to own one of these rare old lamps. 
Not that they were any great objects of 
beauty, being merely a semi-circular 
trough for holding seal oil, very rudely 
hollowed out of a certain type of rock, 
but the antiquity of the things and the 
mystery of their origin was what gave 
them their added interest and value. 

“Kituk,” he said at last, “where do you 
think they came from?” 

“I don’t know,” said the boy simply. 

The lamp was soon forgotten, and ere 
long the teacher, pulling his parka hood 
over his ears, crept out at the low opening 
and made his way home. 


THE STEATITE LAMP 61 

The Eskimo boy remained. That ques- 
tion, ‘‘Where do you think they came 
from?” had stuck in his mind. 

For a long time the boy sat and gazed 
at the strange seal-oil lamp with its 
mysterious past. Where had it come 
from? He had been far along the Arctic 
coast. Had it been made at any of the 
points he had visited? It seemed hardly 
possible, for then there would be plenty 
of them, and men would be making them 
still. But then, they may have been made 
by a village which had later been wiped 
out by pestilence or by famine. As he 
thought of this, Kituk imagined himself 
finding that mine and manufacturing new 
seal-oil lamps for his people. But this did 
not satisfy his imagination. Perhaps it 
had been made on the Russian side of the 
Arctic and carried across the Strait as 
trade goods by the Chukches. He sud- 
denly turned to the old Kitmesuk. 

“Kitmesuk, where was your seal-oil 
lamp made?” 


62 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


The old man jerked his thumb toward 
the north and muttered “Ubagok,” as he 
went on with his net mending. 

Kituk leaned forward eagerly. He was 
then to find out after all. His old uncle 
knew. 

‘ ‘ Where ? Where ? Kitmesuk, where ? ’ ’ 
he demanded eagerly. 

“ Canok-timana ! ” (I don’t know) ex- 
claimed the old man; ‘Tong way, long 
way — ” 

Kituk questioned him, naming place 
after place, Point Hope, Cape Espenburg, 
Point Barrow, Mouth of the Mackenzie, 
to all of which the old man shook his head. 
He was not quite sure about Mouth of the 
Mackenzie, but at last shook his head at 
that too. He only knew that years before 
these strange lamps had been traded from 
village to village till they had at last 
reached Cape Prince of Wales. Where 
they had come from, other than that they 
came from the far north coast of the Arctic, 
he could not say. 


THE STEATITE LAMP 


63 


Kituk was disappointed; he had hoped 
that from his uncle he was to get the 
history of these strange seal-oil lamps. He 
wandered from inni to inni of the village, 
questioning other old men, but always it 
was the same story, the jerking of the 
thumb toward the north and the indefinite 
“somewhere far north” that met his ques- 
tion and left him as uninformed as before. 

It was midwinter, and the young Cap- 
tain, who was so very busy in the short 
summer time, was occupied only with 
occasional trips up the coast with trade 
goods on a dog sled, and with seal hunting 
and white bear hunting on the dangerous 
ice floe, so there was plenty of spare time 
for the study of this puzzling problem 
which had come to him. But one day some- 
thing occurred which promised to throw 
some light on the question, or at least to 
offer a possible solution : Evans, the 
superintendent of the Northwest Division 
of Native Education in Alaska, had 
returned from his annual trip to the far 


64 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


northern points, — Cape Espenburg, Point 
Barrow, and others. Kituk chanced to be 
at the government man’s house when he 
brought in his pack and displayed its con- 
tents. 

A man who travels far in the Arctic is 
constantly picking up curious and interest- 
ing articles along his way, — a rare fox 
skin, some expertly carved ivory, a beauti- 
ful mat of eider-duck skins, a gold nugget 
or two, — always something which makes 
his pack as interesting to the home he 
visits as were the peddlers’ packs to the 
children of a country home in days gone 

by. 

So Kituk was eagerly but modestly 
curious as the tall, strong government 
chief threw the canvas from his sled, and 
shouldering a skin-wrapped pack of con- 
siderable weight, carried it into the 
Government house. 

‘‘I’ve got some things here that will 
interest you,” he said to Thompson, as 
he began untying the leather thongs that 


THE STEATITE LAMP 


65 


bound the pack. "‘You remember Stenson, 
the explorer Well, it seems he has gone 
far to the east of the mouth of the 
Mackenzie and has discovered some new 
tribes of Eskimo.” 

, "‘East of the mouth of the Macken- 
zie!” Kituk’s heart stood still. Perhaps 
it was these tribes who made the ancient 
seal-oil lamps. 

But the moment the pack was opened 
the seal-oil lamps were forgotten entirely 
for the wonder of the things spread out 
before him. 

“These,” said the government chief, 
“were made by the tribe of Nagyuktog- 
miuts which Stenson has discovered.” 

There were a hundred or more small 
articles, spear points, arrow points, skin- 
ning knives, skin scrapers, and every other 
conceivable thing that an Eskimo man or 
woman might use in the daily round of 
duties, and the wonder of it was, they were 
all made of copper, 

Kituk stared in open-mouthed astonish- 


66 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


ment. No Eskimo people had been known 
to make things of copper before. What 
manner of Eskimo might these be ? 

“These Nagyuktogmiuts/’ went on the 
government chief, ‘‘live in snow houses in 
winter and hunt on the ice of the ocean, 
and in summer they live in skin tents and 
sometimes in stone houses. Stenson has 
been with them for a year and is still there 
studying their life and gathering eth- 
nological material. He sent these articles 
out by the whaler Carluke which wintered 
farther east last year than any whaler has 
ever wintered and which touched at Point 
Barrow late in the summer.” 

“ Nagyuktogmiuk ! Nagyuktogmiut ! ” 
That was a Point Barrow expression. 
Kituk had heard it. What did it mean.?^ 
Suddenly it came to him. He suppressed 
an exclamation and went on examining the 
copper instruments. 

Just then Thompson announced that 
the coffee and “mulligan” were ready, and 
after a hearty meal the white chief went 


THE STEATITE LAMP 


67 


spinning away after his splendid dog team 
on his way to Nome. 

For a long time Kituk sat thinking in 
silence. The government man saw what 
was going on in his mind and did not dis- 
turb him. At last Kituk spoke. ‘‘Thomp- 
son, if those are Eskimo people, I ought 
to make their village on my trade journey 
north, hadn’t I?” 

“It would be a splendid thing to do,” 
said the government man thoughtfully. 
“The chief told me that Stenson sent word 
that some of the people had starved last 
spring between seal hunting and the coming 
of the caribou.” 

“Oh! Then I must go!” exclaimed the 
Eskimo boy, rising and walking the floor. 

“But you must remember this,” said the 
government man slowly. ‘‘There would 
probably be no chance to return the same 
summer. You would be obliged to allow 
your boat to freeze in for the winter and 
return in the spring.” 

“Oh!” Kituk exclaimed at this new 


68 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


phase of the problem. Then as another 
thought struck him, ‘‘Ah-ne-ca! What 
do you suppose that name Nagyuktogmiut 
means 

‘‘ Haven’t a notion. What ? ” 

‘‘Nag-yuk-tog-miut,” the boy repeated 
slowly. “They kill all strangers.” 

For a long time they thought in silence, 
while the clock on the shelf tick-tocked, 
tick-tocked the moments away. It was an 
interesting and fascinating problem that 
had presented itself to their minds. And 
though he had not said it, Kituk knew full 
well that the government man was think- 
ing of the same thing that he was, and that 
in all probability if Kituk decided to venture 
on the journey in his gasoline schooner,^ 
his first mate would be the one who had 
taken many another adventure with him, 
Thompson the government teacher. 

“Nagyuktogmiut. They kill all 
strangers,” Kituk murmured at last. 

“But they didn’t kill Stenson,” said 
Thompson quickly. 


THE STEATITE LAMP 


69 


‘‘No, they didn’t,” agreed Kituk. 
Nothing more was said, but Kituk knew 
that the matter was really settled, and 
that next summer, after the spring trading 
had been attended to, they would arrange 
to have his next summer’s trade taken 
care of and with their schooner loaded with 
trade goods would head away to the east 
of north and the land of the Nagyuktog- 
miuts. 


CHAPTER VII 


A STRANGE ADVENTURE 

Had Thompson chanced to look behind 
him, his mind might have been occupied 
with far different thoughts. But he 
didn’t; he marched steadily on through 
the white silence of that Arctic wilderness 
of ice, his eyes occasionally searching this 
way and that, but always ahead, and his 
mind going over the incidents of the last 
nine months, as one’s mind has a way of 
doing as one tramps alone. 

The visit to the land of the Nagyuktog- 
miuts had been determined upon that very 
day on which he and Kituk had heard of 
them for the first time. The details had 
been worked out later. Little by little 
the definite plans had shaped themselves; 
the kind of trade goods they should carry. 


A STRANGE ADVENTURE 


71 


including needles and thread for the 
women and some calicoes, and a good 
supply of ammunition and rifles for the 
men. If these people could make a living 
almost suflBcient for all the year around 
with their own primitive hunting imple- 
ments, how much better they might do if 
they had the white man’s guns and 
ammunition ! 

At last his mind turned to the Nagyuk- 
togmiuts themselves. What sort of people 
were they? Did they indeed “kill all 
strangers”? And was the body of the 
white explorer, who had been so hardy as 
to visit them, by this time lying on some 
icy shore or hidden beneath the Arctic 
snow? When they had touched at Point 
Barrow they had made attempts to employ 
two young Eskimos to accompany them 
on the journey, but had not succeeded. 
The explorer had taken three Eskimos on 
his trip to the land of the Nagyuktogmiuts, 
and none of them had returned. So said 
the Eskimo people of Point Barrow. 


72 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


What was to show them that these savage 
tribes had not lived up to their custom and 
“killed all strangers”, including the ex- 
plorer and his Eskimo companions? No, 
indeed ! They would not go ! Thompson 
thought of this now, and his brow clouded. 
It might well be that the explorer and his 
Eskimo companions had been murdered, 
and that he and Kituk would share their 
fate. But the very fact that the explorer 
had not returned was all the more incen- 
tive for them to make the perilous trip. 
If he still lived, he would doubtless be 
wishing for an opportunity to return to 
civilization. He had been fortunate in 
making the trip there overland. It might 
well be that he had made repeated trials 
to return and had failed. The whale 
ship had left those waters more than a year 
before, and since that time nothing had 
been heard of the explorer and his natives. 

So Thompson’s thoughts ran. Now and 
again he looked this way and that, — at the 
wonderful ice-scape which spread out before 


A STRANGE ADVENTURE 


73 


him. Here were great hills of ice ground 
into round bowlder-like shapes and white 
with the salt that had frozen within them. 
Here and there were piles of fresh water 
from the mouth of some river, which stood 
out blue and shining like blue diamonds 
displayed on white. Here were cakes set 
on end, hundreds and hundreds of them, 
making one feel that he was walking 
through some ancient cemetery. Thomp- 
son thought of all this, and being of an 
artistic nature, he often paused to admire, 
but never once did he look back. 

Again he was thinking of their journey. 
Fortune had favored them so far. There 
had been an exceptionally open sea way 
into September, so they had pop-popped 
ahead day after day, skirting the north 
coast of the Arctic, past Point Barrow, 
past the mouth of the Mackenzie, on and 
on till it seemed they would reach the 
land of the Nagyuktogmiuts by water and 
perhaps return that summer. But one 
day, as they had expected, the ice had come 


74 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


drifting down from the north and closed 
about their schooner, locking them securely 
in for the winter. Now they were snugly 
housed in their schooner cabin, with a 
snow-house lean-to for the dogs, waiting 
for the rivers to freeze over before attempt- 
ing to continue their journey by dog team. 
They had been both fortunate and un- 
fortunate in getting so far by schooner; 
fortunate in that the sled journey would be 
short ; unfortunate in that, if the ice should 
not go away during the coming summer, 
they would be locked in for another year. 
Thompson thought of this, and his brow 
clouded again. 

At last his mind swung about to the 
business in hand. Even then he did not 
look behind him. Some hours before he 
had seen a yellow mass outlined against 
the white ice a few miles from the 
schooner. ‘T believe it is a white bear,” 
he had said to Kituk, and taking his rifle 
had gone unaccompanied in the direction 
of the object. Once away from the eleva- 


A STRANGE ADVENTURE 


75 


tion of the schooner’s deck he had been 
unable to see the object any longer, and 
was obliged to get a general direction and 
follow that. 

‘‘I think I must have gone a little too 
far to the right,” he thought to himself, as 
he looked before him and still could see 
no signs of the bear or his tracks in the 
snow. Turning to the right he went 
on a little farther, then paused to con- 
sider. At this moment he thought 
he heard something behind him. But 
it was such an absurd notion that by 
force of will he did not turn to look. 
“One gets spooky notions in such a 
cemetery-like place,” he said to himself 
as he tramped on. 

Soon he paused again. He was about 
to continue on his way when he heard a 
sound like the hissing of a gander directly 
behind him. Turning quickly, he found 
himself face to face with a gigantic white 
bear. He was gaunt and hungry looking, 
but he was immense. The government 


76 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


man judged him to be twelve feet from tip 
to tip. It had been the bear he had heard 
before. It had been the bear who had 
hissed the warning. Probably he had been 
stalking the man just as the man had been 
stalking him for an hour. Now he stood 
there, on a high pile of ice, staring down at 
the man. He was the first free, live white 
bear the man had ever seen. The man 
was doubtless the first man the bear had 
ever seen. He had been stalking the man 
for food, just as he might have a seal or a 
baby walrus. Now he stood there, his red 
tongue hanging out, a sort of grin on his 
great face, his short white ears quivering,^ 
his ponderous paws uncertain. 

Thompson drew his rifie from his 
shoulder. It would be a peach of a shot ! 
Should he do it.^ Could he do it? The 
bear had given him warning. If he had 
not, there would have been no story told. 
Why had he done it ? Who knows ? 
They did not need the food nor the skin. 
It would be only for sport. But if he 


A STRANGE ADVENTURE 


77 


didn’t, what would his companion, the 
brave young hunter, say ? Three times he 
raised his rifle. Three times he lowered it. 
The bear stood there, still grinning. The 
fourth time he raised it. This time he 
pulled the trigger. But he did not shoot 
at the bear, but over his head. He had 
decided that the rules of war required him 
to return the courtesy and give warning. 
Immediately the great bear wheeled about, 
and disappearing down the side of the ice 
hill, came out on the plateau of ice beyond 
and was soon away in the distance. 
Thompson threw his rifle over his shoulder, 
and, turning, made his way in the opposite 
direction toward the ship, still wondering 
what Kituk would say. 

‘‘Where’s your bear.f^” Kituk grinned, as 
he approached the schooner. “You didn’t 
get him! Didn’t you see him.^^” 

“Sure.” 

“Too far away.?^” 

“Nope.” 

“Then why? You — you weren’t 


78 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


afraid — ” the boy hesitated, a dis- 
appointed look coming into his face. 

For a moment the white man did not 
answer. Should he tell the boy all that 
had happened ? Men said that these child 
people, these Eskimo, only half a genera- 
tion from complete ignorance of even the 
spelling book, did not have the sentiments 
of more cultured folks ; they did not love 
as others did, they did not have friends as 
others did, they had none of the finer senti- 
ments. Thompson knew in his heart that 
much of this was all pure theory. But, 
after all, would this born hunter under- 
stand how a man could allow a bear to 
escape just because he had given warning 
before he attacked ? Well, anyway, he 
would see. 

Sitting down on the deck he laid his 
rifle across his shoulder and told in as 
simpje language as possible what had 
happened. Kituk listened attentively. 
As the story was finished, his face spread 
over with an appreciative grin. 


A STRANGE ADVENTURE 


79 


‘‘Ah-ne-ca!” he exclaimed, ‘‘I didn’t 
know anybody else did that way. I did 
it once myself.” 

The white man stared for a moment, 
then extended his hand. “Shake,” he 
said and the handshake bound the white 
man and his Eskimo companion in a closer 
bond than kinship might have done. 

That night, before they retired, Kituk 
went on deck and stood there for a long 
time, feeling the breeze blowing on his 
cheeks and looking away toward the north 
where the stars were shining. His brow 
was wrinkled. The wind was from the 
north; not a very strong breeze yet, but 
stronger than three hours before. Would 
it increase and drive the ice on shore, thus 
endangering their little craft This was 
the question which troubled him. He re- 
membered all too well the anxious hours 
they spent when the schooner was car- 
ried through Bering Straits in an ice jam. 
She had stood the strain and press then. 
She was said to be so strongly built that she 


80 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


would pop out of an ice press like a 
nut from the nutcracker. But would she? 
She was not so strong as she once was. 
Should the wind hold off a few days longer 
and the cold continue, everything would be 
safe enough, for the ice drift would be 
cemented together for a mile by six feet 
of solid shore ice, but just now it 
was too soon for that. What would 
come of this breeze that was hourly 
freshening ? Ah, well ! He must wait. 
He would sleep to-night. To-morrow 
would be time enough to confide his fears 
to his companion. 

For a brief time he allowed himself to 
contemplate the consequences of a wrecked 
schooner. They were many days’ sled 
journey from the nearest camp of civiliza- 
tion. They could not hope to carry a 
quarter of the food needed, were they to 
attempt the journey back over land. 
They would be compelled to trust to their 
rifles and the plentifulness of game. 
Should either of these fail them, why, then 


A STRANGE ADVENTURE 


81 


their bones would bleach on the sand 
dunes of the North Arctic shore. 

Kituk shook the thoughts from his mind, 
but it was a flushed face that he turned to 
the northern breeze for one more look 
before he went below. 


CHAPTER VIII 


NAGYUKTOGMIUTS 

Kituk paused, hesitated, then stood 
still. He felt a decided desire to turn 
back. Had he seen something black over 
yonder ice pile a moment before, or was 
it merely the shadow cast by the ice pile 
beyond ? There was something terrible 
about this perpetual night which awed 
him. In his home at Cape Prince of 
Wales there was always a little sunlight, 
even on the shortest day of the year, but in 
this far northland now it had already been 
dark day and night for days and days. 
He could hardly remember how long. 

And here he was marching along all by 
himself, miles from shore, over the ice of a 
great bay that was silent as a frozen river. 
He was in a land unknown to him. All 


NAGYUKTOGMIUTS 


83 


about him the ice piles and ice cakes up 
ended cast giant, purple shadows. Over 
his head shone the pale moon. All about 
was silence, silence so deep that it might 
almost oe felt. 

What wonder then that he paused and 
speculated on the dark spot which had 
seemed to appear above the ice pile and 
instantly to vanish. What wonder that 
through his mind there flashed the events 
of the weeks past ; his anxiety at the rising 
of a great storm from the north ; his fears 
confirmed; the coming of the great ice 
floes piling mountain high, tier on tier, 
and promising to wreck his craft like an 
eggshell; the placing of the capstan to 
pull the schooner shoreward to safety ; 
the agonizing moments of suspense, as he 
watched the ice pressure grow stronger, 
more terrific, moment by moment; the 
great relief when the staunch little craft 
sprang from the jaws of her captor, and 
the wild joy of labor as, sweating at 
every pore, they tugged at the capstan 


84 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


and drew their treasure to safety, — all 
this swept through his mind now as he 
stood there for one brief moment hesitant. 

And the rest followed fleetingly on : 
how the great darkness had come swiftly 
down upon the land ; how the rivers and 
overflows had frozen until at last they 
dared attempt the journey by sled to the 
Land of the Nagyuktogmiuts ; how they 
had started, and on the third day had come 
upon a driftwood log which had been 
chopped by a dull ax such as the Nagyuk- 
togmiuts used; how they had pressed on 
eagerly, till at last they had come to tracks 
of men; how they had found the snow 
village long deserted by people; how they 
had followed the trail till they had come to 
a village where were many sleds and hunting 
implements, all very curiously made, but 
still there were no people ; and lastly how, 
when the dogs were tired from the long 
drive, he had volunteered to go ahead and 
see what he could discover. All this, too, 
swept through his mind and left him still 


NAGYUKTOGMIUTS 


85 


standing there, wondering about that dark 
spot he had seen for an instant above the 
ice pile. 

What if this had been the head of a 
Nagyuktogmiut hunter who was stalking 
him stealthily through this shadowy, 
perpetual night The thought staggered 
him for an instant. The very fact that 
there would be no morning, no coming of 
dawn, no dispelling light of day, but 
perpetual night, at least for so long a time 
that it seemed perpetual, appalled him. 
He wanted to turn back. But what was 
the use.^ They had come so far. They 
were nearing the goal they sought. They 
must finish, whatever the cost. He shook 
himself and resumed his tramping through 
the gloom. 

But what kind of people would these 
Nagyuktogmiuts be.^ He had never been 
able quite to banish from his mind the 
meaning of their name, and it revolved in 
his mind now like a nightmare. ‘‘They 
kill all strangers. They kill all strangers.” 


86 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


But this was replaced by his rosiest 
dreams. And being a boy, he had had 
rosy dreams. Of course he was altruistic. 
He really wished to help these people to 
a better way of living, but he also had 
hoped that they might help him. Why 
not? Might they not have hidden away 
in their summer stone houses rich fox 
skins, black, silver, red, white, and cross- 
fox? Might they not have stores of rich 
ivory and great bales of whalebone? And 
would it not be right that he trade for 
these at rather high prices ? Had not 
the risk of the journey been great both to 
themselves and the schooner ? A man 
surely is right in charging enough for his 
goods to pay for his time and risk. So he 
had reasoned and so he had dreamed, 
and so he reasoned and dreamed now. 
i There was one more thing he had hoped 
to find in this strange land, and that was 
the quarry from which came the steatite 
rock out of which the seal-oil lamps had 
been made. Should he find this and the men 


NAGYUKTOGMIUTS 


87 


who made them, he would have a fortune 
in this alone, for many white men would 
pay a handsome price for one of these. 
Kituk thought of this also as he walked 
on through the moonlight. But dreams 
are often shattered by great realities. 
Suddenly the boy felt the impact of a body 
upon him, and he was borne crushingly to 
the ice. 

For an instant he was stunned by the 
fall; then rousing himself, he threw all 
his sinewy young frame into the task of 
release. Not in vain had the faithful hours 
of native gymnastics in the “cosgy” been 
kept up by him. The creature that had 
borne him down was a man. He heard 
his harsh breathing and felt the grip of his 
arms about him. But doubling into a 
knot, Kituk gave a snake-like wiggle, at 
the same time twisting his muscles into 
iron-like bands, and was half free in an 
instant. Another writhe and twist, and 
he was on top of the stranger. 

A terrific struggle followed, for the 


88 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


stranger, seeing that he was about to lose 
his captive, threw all his power into the 
attack. But the boy was fresh and well 
fed. His head was cool. He allowed this 
giant to waste his strength, then with one 
trial of his splendid muscles, tossed the 
other on his back, and sitting upon his 
stomach, began dictating terms of peace. 

“Ubagok! Nagoovaruktuk ! See, I am 
good,” he exclaimed. He spoke in his own 
language. To his intense relief he saw 
that the man understood. His language 
then was the language of the Nagyuktog- 
iniuts. Hastily he told the man that he 
was a friend; that he carried no knife; 
that he would not kill him. That he 
would not kill any of his people nor throw 
a spell over them ; that he would find new 
ways of getting “cow-cow!” (food). 

At this word “cow-cow”, the man’s 
face relaxed and took on an expression 
of intense sadness. “Cow-cow peeluk ! 
Cow-cow peeluk ! Muckie ! Muckie ! Na- 
na-coo. Illaheute muckie ! Muckie ilia- 


NAGYUKTOGMIUTS 


89 


heute muckie!” The words sounded like 
a wail of a funeral song, and indeed so it 
was, for he was saying that for his people 
there was no food, and that they were 
dying; soon all would be dead. 

At these words the boy leaped from his 
chest and pulled the gaunt, emaciated form 
to its feet. “Come!” he said, using Eng- 
lish in his excitement. “Kullemuk! 
Hurry!” The stranger, who was now 
no less eager than he, led him with rapid 
strides to where, casting dark shadows in 
the moonlight, were the twenty or more 
round-topped snow houses of the village. 
All was silent. Not a dog barked at their 
arrival. Those had gone long ago. Led 
into one of the houses, Kituk beheld sights 
which made his blood run cold ; emaciated 
forms of beings who scarcely moved or 
spoke, and when they did speak, spoke 
only of the food that was gone, of the great 
seals which did not come, of the white 
bears that did not come, of the fish that did 
not come, while some witch doctor chanted 


90 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


an incantation to the spirits that the spell 
of death might be removed. 

“Na-na-coo” (by and by), Kituk ex- 
claimed, as he hurried back over the trail 
whence he had come. In half an hour he 
had told Thompson what he had seen. 
Something must be done. The ship was 
too far away to offer any solution. If they 
drove the dog team to the village, the 
natives would at once seize the dogs, kill, 
and devour them. Then they would all 
starve together. It was a terrible moment. 
Perhaps even stout-hearted Kituk wished 
himself safely back in the snug cabin of 
the schooner. These people were now their 
charges. They were starving. Something 
must be done for them. What should it be ? 
Only one thing could be done. Game must 
be procured at once. But how could one 
expect to procure game where these hunters, 
doubtless brave and knowing, had failed.^ 
There was but one answer to this : The 
game, “oogrook” (big seal) and walrus, 
must be farther out to sea, perhaps miles 


NAGYUKTOGMIUTS 


91 


and miles away. Distance was the only 
hope. They could but skirt the village and 
make the attempt. 

In a moment more they were spinning 
along over the ice, round this ice pile 
and that great ice pillar jutting out of the 
m^ss, ever northward toward the unknown, 
where there might be food for all, and 
where there might be food for none. This 
last thought staggered the government 
man. There was food on the sled but for 
two days’ journey. One of these would 
be consumed by this hunting trip. They 
were five days from their schooner. What 
if they failed to find food ? Well, that 
was not worth thinking about. They must 
find food ! The necessity was for them- 
selves as well as for these wretched crea- 
tures who would starve if help did not 
come soon. 

This thought urged them on, and speak- 
ing encouraging words to the jaded dog 
team, they pushed on mile after mile over 
the glistening ice. 


92 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


"‘Look out for overflows,” cautioned 
Kituk. “We are getting to where the 
ice is newer. Sometimes it is very thin.” 
He had hardly said this when there was an 
ominous crack, and they wheeled the team 
to an old and solid cake just in time to 
escape being thrown into the icy water. 

They paused on the solid ice, panting 
from exertion and excitement. 

“Listen,” said Kituk, a moment later. 

Thompson listened intently. It seemed 
to him that he heard a faint barking sound 
far away. 

“A dog?” he asked. “Are we near 
another village?” 

“No, walrus,” said the boy excitedly. 
“They keep holes through the ice here all 
winter long, and sometimes they bark 
for hours. Guess they like to hear them- 
selves sing.” 

Thompson smiled at the thought. He 
listened and heard the sound again. 
Quickly they turned the sled, and skirting 
the thin ice, traveled cautiously toward 


NAGYUKTOGMIUTS 93 

the sound. It grew louder as they 
traveled. 

It was an intense moment. Should the 
walrus cease barking, they would be unable 
to find him in this labyrinth of ice cakes and 
piles. If they found him, could they cap- 
ture him.^ To shoot him would be easy, 
but to keep him from sinking back into the 
ocean was quite another matter. 

‘‘Can you use those things?” Thompson 
asked, as Kituk twisted the leather thong 
about a harpoon and lance he had taken 
from the half -deserted village. 

“I don’t know. I can try,” said the 
boy modestly. They whispered to the 
dogs to move forward. They were coming 
nearer and nearer, and the walrus was still 
barking. Soon they would tie the dogs to 
an ice cake and proceed to steal upon the 
prey. 

“Now!” whispered Kituk, his right arm 
tense as he balanced the harpoon for the 
throw. 

The walrus has poor sight. The men 


94 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


had much to be thankful for in this. By 
the aid of the semidarkness they had been 
able to creep quite close to the monster, 
who still sat half in the water and haK 
on the ice, still ‘‘baying to the moon- 
light”, his great white tusks shining in the 
shimmering light, his moustache bristling, 
his great goggly eyes bearing a semblance 
to a grin. 

“Now!” whispered the boy again, and 
he cleared his line for the cast. Then 
zing ! spat ! the harpoon struck true. The 
keen point imbedded itself in the giant 
creature’s thick hide. With the skill and 
agility of a trick performer, Kituk jabbed 
the copper-pointed lance into the solid ice, 
wrapped his skin rope many times about 
it, and stood in repose. He was not a 
moment too soon, for the line sang taut 
from the gigantic pull of the beast who, 
sinking from his air hole, had gone thrash- 
ing to his sand bar beneath, and was now 
exerting his every pound of energy to free 
himself. The muscles on Kituk’s arms 



This time the rifle rang out. Page 95, 



*5 




NAGYUKTOGMIUTS 


95 


stood out like knotted cords. Cold per- 
spiration sprang from his brow, while the 
veins of his neck coursed red with straining 
blood. . 

Thompson leaped to his side. ‘‘No! 
No!” the boy waved him away with a 
motion of the head. “Be ready to shoot! 
Air! He must come for air!” 

Understanding, the white man ap- 
proached the opening in the ice and 
waited. He was greeted in an instant with 
a wild toss of spray which entirely^ blinded 
him, and this one shot was lost. The 
strain told on the Eskimo boy. Had he 
not shifted his position, he could not have 
held his ground, as the beast once more 
swerved at the line. But he said nothing. 
His splendid training was standing him in 
good stead. 

The white man understood his mistake 
and stood a bit back and higher on an ice 
pile. Again the great head reappeared 
above the water, the monstrous mouth 
slashing foam. This time the rifle rang 


96 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


out, and though the strength of the 
monster seemed unabated, there was blood 
in the foam as he rose again. The battle 
continued for half an hour. All the time 
the Eskimo boy stood strong at his post, 
though the gray frost of perspiration stood 
out over his face and made him seem a 
monument of snow. The lives of many 
depended now on his strength and endur- 
ance. At last, when it seemed that human 
frame could endure no more, the monster 
rose feebly, toppled, and leaping high in a 
dying throe, fell half upon the ice bank 
and lay there dead. The Eskimo boy fell 
an instant later and lay there as if he, too, 
had died of overstrain. But in another 
moment he was upon his feet and was 
dexterously cutting the body of the animal 
into strips ready for loading on the sled. 


CHAPTER IX 


A CALL OUT OF THE NIGHT 

The lump of walrus blubber, suspended 
from the conical ceiling of the snow house, 
drip-dripped its oil upon the sputtering, 
vacillating flame in the lamp. Kituk alter- 
nately dozed and thought. His thoughts 
were bittersweet. It had been good to 
save these poor creatures from starvation, 
to see them eat and lie down to sleep, to 
see the cheery light of the seal-oil lamps 
once more illumine their homes, and to 
realize that in the morning enough of the 
stronger ones might move to the outer ice 
where there were more walrus, and where 
with the aid of rifles food might be 
obtained in abundance. All this had been 
very satisfying to the boy and his white 
companion. 


98 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


But Kituk had hoped that these people 
would have something to give in return for 
their rifles, their ammunition, and other 
supplies. He scowled at the prostrate 
form before him. The man was wrapped 
in slumber, but he was also wrapped in 
something else. It was a skin robe, and 
down the center of this ran two strips of 
black which were once the coat of a magnifi- 
cent black fox, such a hide as would have 
brought a thousand dollars in the market, 
and this man had worn it half away as a 
robe ! A deerskin worth eight dollars would 
have done quite as well. But then, why 
blame these people.^ It had been years, 
yes, generations, since they had had trade 
relations with the other Eskimo people. 
Some tragedy of tribe hatred or blood 
revenge had built up an unsurmountable 
barrier that until now was never bridged. 
How were they to know the value of fox 
skins, ivory, whalebone.^ 

Kituk scowled again. Whalebone.^ He 
had had the greatest diflSculty in making 


A CALL OUT OF THE NIGHT 99 

them understand what he meant, and when 
he had, they had replied, “Oh, yes, it is 
very good for fishing lines when the tomcod 
are running.” What was the use.^ Ivory 
they had used for harpoon handles and 
such things, or thrown away. It was 
not half so useful as copper, so they said. 
It was hard for this keen young trader 
to realize that customs made values. It 
seemed to him that they should have 
realized the uncommonness of these trade 
articles and saved them, just as his own 
people had done. But he was obliged to 
face the fact that they had not, and that 
it was more than likely that he would be 
obliged to return to civilization empty- 
handed, his only reward the pleasure of 
having aided some simple people to a 
better living. This was a great reward 
in its way, but would not go far in the 
good esteem of his own countrymen, who 
considered him the best trader on the 
Arctic mainland. 

Mooning about this and dreaming mean- 


100 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


while, Kituk watched the sputtering seal- 
oil lamp. Something at this moment 
caught his attention. It was a woman’s 
copper knife for splitting skins. He picked 
it up and began to examine it. After a 
time he lost interest in it, but still held it 
in his hand, then began absent-mindedly 
drumming on an up-ended seal-oil lamp 
that stood beside him. He was on his feet 
in an instant, a suppressed exclamation 
on his lips. The seal-oil lamp had rung 
as clear and true as the mission bell at 
Point Barrow ! 

At that moment his attention was 
attracted by the commotion which began 
among the few Nagyuktogmiuts outside 
who were still awake. 

It was Thompson who had first heard 
the cry for help. He had been wandering 
about in the moonlight, admiring the 
aurora borealis, which was more brilliant 
than he had ever seen it before. It lighted 
the whole heavens in a great golden cur- 
tain with fold on fold which wavered and 


A CALL OUT OF THE NIGHT 101 


scintillated; now deep crimson and now 
fading to the gold of some mild-tinted 
rose. Now swinging to the right and now 
to the left, it reminded him of a pretty 
notion the medicine men have, that the 
light is the men of the sky playing bola 
ball, and the wavering is the winning or 
losing of a side. 

From this reverie he was wakened with 
a shock by a cry from the darkness beyond. 
“Help! Help! Ubagok! Ubagok! Kulle- 
muk! Kullemuk!” It came first in Eng- 
lish and then in Eskimo. Thompson was 
so startled by the call in his own tongue 
in this strange dark land that at first he 
did not move. He knew it could not be 
Kituk, for the boy was inside the next 
snow house. He did not waste more 
thoughts, but calling to the natives about 
him, he seized the cord of a sled near by 
and went rushing through the labyrinth 
of ice piles, shouting “Uba! Uba! Uba!” 

Soon he heard the call again, and in a 
short time found himself standing by the 


102 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


edge of an overflow which was but thinly 
frozen. In the very middle of this, in a 
dark pool, he saw the form of a man. 
There was a dark path behind him, show- 
ing where he had struggled to make his 
way out to solid ice and had failed. He 
was now clinging to the edge of the ice, 
apparently too numb to proceed farther. 

Without a moment’s hesitation the 
government man, taking a running start, 
threw himself upon the sled and went 
skimming over the thin ice halfway to the 
stranger. The moment the sled stopped, 
it crashed through the ice and left Thomp- 
son to struggle as best he might in the 
burning, benumbing water. He had ex- 
pected this, and drawing a small copper 
hatchet from beneath his parka, he began 
swimming forward with one hand, while 
he broke the ice before him with the copper 
hatchet. 

By this time Kituk and a number of 
the Nagyuktogmiuts had gathered on the 
solid edge of ice to watch and render any 


A CALL OUT OF THE NIGHT 103 


assistance they were able, which was 
almost nothing at all, as Kituk realized 
with a twinge of anguish, for these people, 
though living on the sea, find it better to 
avoid the water than to learn to swim in 
it. Indeed, it appeared that swimming 
was an unknown art to the Nagyuktog- 
miuts, for they looked on in amazement as 
Thompson made his way steadily forward, 
while such exclamations as ‘‘Walrus-man! 
Seal-swimmer I White-bear-man!” came 
from their astonished lips. 

Kituk looked on with wonder, pride, and 
anxiety, realizing full well what the water 
meant to a man in such a clime and at 
such a temperature. But suddenly he 
caught his breath and started involuntarily 
forward with a cry of dismay. In striking 
at the ice before him, Thompson had 
allowed the copper hatchet to slip from his 
grasp. The force of the spent blow sent 
him forward with a lunge and he dis- 
appeared beneath the surface of the ice 
before him. 


104 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


To the natives about him Kituk saw that 
this seemed only part of the play. For 
them Thompson’s swimming was a miracle. 
He was doubtless a favorite of the spirit. 
He would get on as well beneath the ice 
as above it. But to Kituk it was a 
tragedy. 


CHAPTER X 


THE EXPLORER 

From his boyhood Thompson had been 
a strong and skillful swimmer. As he felt 
himself slide beneath the ice his mind 
worked rapidly. The instructions of his 
master came to him like a flash: “If you 
ever go under the ice swim for the dark 
spots.” Before him lay a dark spot. 
Could he reach it? He must! He held 
his breath and struck for the dark spot. 
In what seemed an instant of time to the 
watchers on shore, but an age to the 
swimmer, he shot out on the far side of 
the ice and came up blowing beside the 
benumbed stranger. 

Without a moment’s delay, Thompson 
bade the stranger cling to his parka hood, 
and turning, threw his weight upon the 


106 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


ice-crust again and again till he had made 
a way to the narrow channel beyond. 
In a moment more he was grasped by 
Kituk and one of the Nagyuktogmiuts, who 
had waded as far out into the icy water 
as they dared. The stranger was seized 
by two others, and these in turn were 
helped by twoscore of willing hands on to 
the dry ice, and all were hurried away 
to the house, where they were stripped 
of their stiffening garments, vigorously 
rubbed and pounded, then wrapped in 
warm skin rugs. At last, as they lay 
side by side near the seal-oil lamp, the 
stranger caught a sight of Thompson’s 
face, and for the first time realized that 
it had been a white man who had saved 
his life. 

“You are Stenson, the great explorer,” 
said Thompson quietly. 

“Not great,” said the other, “but Sten- 
son, a humble wanderer. And who are 
you.?” 

“ The government teacher from Cape 


THE EXPLORER 


107 


Prince of Wales,” replied Thompson. 
‘‘My friend Kituk and I thought you 
might be wishing for some tea and cheese, 
and that perhaps you might wish to come 
back to civilization.” 

“I’m living in a civilized country now,” 
said the stranger stoutly, but still smiling, 
“and I have no notion of leaving just yet, 
but as for tea and cheese, I admit they’d 
taste a bit like home.” 

Kituk, who had wriggled free from the 
friendly hands which would have wrapped 
him too in a sleeping blanket and had 
crept into the dry clothing which he found 
himg upon a line above the bed-shelf, was 
curled up on the floor, listening in silence 
to the talk of the white man. The ex- 
plorer told of his many adventures during 
his two years of life among these tribes 
of the far north. To all this Kituk lis- 
tened with intense interest, but when 
they began talking of their own country; 
who had been elected president; what 
college each had attended, and the mutual 


108 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


friends they had in that far-away land, 
he lost interest and began talking in low 
tones to the Nagyuktogmiut nearest him, 
who had just awakened from a nap. 

To his surprise he found that this was 
the man who had attacked him the night 
before. Kituk was told frankly that it 
was the man’s intention to strangle him, 
since he had no other weapons than his 
hands. “For,” said he, “I believed you 
were the evil one who was causing the 
famine and death in our village. If I 
could but kill you, all would be well. The 
oogrook would return and the tomcod 
and walrus. But now I see that I was 
quite wrong. We all know now that you 
and your companion are friends of the 
good spirits, and that you can do any- 
thing and get anything you please, so 
long as you do not offend the spirit.” 

“How did you find that out?” asked 
Kituk, smiling. 

^ “Is it not very clear?” asked the man. 
“Did you not go out and come back in 


THE EXPLORER 


109 


three hours with a walrus? Would it not 
take a Nagyuktogmiut a whole day to kill 
a great bull walrus ? Does not your friend 
go in water like a seal and under ice in 
water like a fish? Can men who are not 
friendly with the good spirits do this?’' 

Kituk did not answer. He did not wish 
to attempt to tell the man that he was 
wrong before he spoke with Thompson 
about this rather strange turn of affairs. 
He was gazing absently at the floor, think- 
ing of all these strange events, when his 
eye caught something shining on the deer- 
skin rug before him. There were two of 
them, — brass buttons they were, — tar- 
nished and battered, and worn smooth 
here and there by much carrying. 

He held them in his hand and began 
studying them carefully. It seemed to 
him that there were raised letters on 
them. And indeed there were. H. M. S. 
he made out at last. He spelled it out 
loud. The explorer looked up in surprise. 
Then seeing what Kituk had, he uttered 


110 CAPTAIN KITUK 

an exclamation and held out his hand. 
Kituk gave them to him. 

“Thank you,” said the other, “I am 
glad you found them. They fell from my 
wet clothing and might have been lost. 
In all my two years’ wanderings they are 
the only trophies I have found of the ill- 
fated Sir John Franklyn Expedition.” 

Then, seeing that the Eskimo boy was 
interested, he went on : 

“H. M. S. stands for Her Majesty’s 
Ship, and these are buttons from the coat 
of some brave fellow who lost his life in 
these very lagoons or hills or tundra. 
There were two great ships and one hun- 
dred and twenty -nine men. They were 
searching for a northwest passage from 
one great ocean to another. Their ships 
were surrounded by the ice floe some- 
where in these very waters, and were 
never released. They wandered from is- 
land to island, from cape to cape. Their 
brave leader died and was buried some- 
where in these hills. Of all the hundred 


THE EXPLORER 


111 


and twenty -nine, not a soul survived. 
Probably they were all dead within two 
years. Many ships started out to find 
them. Other lives were lost, but all that 
was found of them at last was their bones, 
their boats, their loaded guns, their cook- 
ing utensils. They had tried every means 
of escape, until finally here and there they 
had been overtaken with disease and star- 
vation ; and here, after all these years, you 
see the only relics that can be surely identi- 
fied with that ill-fated expedition.” 

Kituk sat wrapped in silent thought at 
the close of the explorer’s speech. He was 
trying to picture the horror of being lost 
in a dark and desolate land far from one’s 
own people. At last the pity and the 
needlessness of it all swept over him with 
a great wave of emotion. 

‘‘Why — why — why,” he exclaimed, 
“why did they not live here among the 
Nagyuktogmiuts ? ” 

The explorer smiled. “You well may 
ask,” be said slowly. “We white men 


112 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


have many things to learn from your 
people. If they had put themselves under 
the guidance of these people, had assisted 
them to procure game, — caribou by hun- 
dreds in summer and walrus in winter, — 
they had guns and ammunition which the 
natives did not have; if they had done 
this, I have no doubt that the greater part 
of them would have lived to tell the story 
to their grandchildren. But,” he ended 
in a thoughtful voice, ‘‘there’s no use 
telling what might have been. We white 
men learn but slowly. I wager there is 
not one white man in a hundred to-day 
who would believe that a white man can 
live on lean meat and blubber alone from 
one year to another, without tea or coffee 
or even salt. But this, nevertheless, is a 
fact.” 

The Nagyuktogmiuts were preparing to 
move to the new hunting field. Kituk 
heard them as they chattered cheerfully, 
or called to one another to bring this or 


THE EXPLORER 


113 


that for the packing. Soon all would be 
in motion. The snow houses, deserted, 
would stand shimmering in the moon- 
light, while new houses, a whole new town 
in the distance, would rise like magic. 
There, by the aid of the two white men 
and Kituk, with their rifles, the people 
would doubtless fare very well till the 
coming of the caribou in the springtime. 
How different was this life from that 
lived by his own people, who did journey 
here and there in their skin boats during 
the brief summer time, but who for nine 
long months stayed securely housed in 
their innies built of logs and sod! How 
charming it all seemed to the adventurous 
boy, now that the danger of famine was 
past! He imagined himself living year 
after year with these people, journeying 
always with them from hunting ground 
to hunting ground, for caribou in spring, 
musk-ox and fish in summer, seal, oogrook, 
and walrus in winter, always a free, wan- 
dering, outdoor life. 


114 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


But then there came a little wave of 
homesickness. He wanted to see his own 
people; the great ragged Cape Prince of 
Wales Mountain with his little home vil- 
lage nestled beneath it. And besides, he 
had his obligations to his people. Was 
he not their best trader ? Did he not 
bring them food before the other schoon- 
ers, and save them from being robbed or 
starved ? Ah ! Yes, he must return. 

But again he thought of the unfortunate 
hundred and twenty-nine who had wan- 
dered over these hills and tundra long 
ago. Their boats had been ice-locked. 
Might this not very easily happen to their 
own ? What if the explorer had made 
the trip overland once.^^ Was this any 
reason to believe it might be done again? 
Once more he saw himself wandering with 
these Nagyuktogmiuts year after year, a 
virtual exile from his own land, shut away 
by hundreds and hundreds of miles of ice, 
snow hills, and wind-blown, treeless tundra. 
A head was thrust in at the door. It was 


THE EXPLORER 


115 


that of a young girl of sixteen. Kituk 
imagined himself wedded to such a one 
as this. In a moment he shook himself 
and scowled. The thought was not pleas- 
ing to him. He threw his arms back in a 
gesture of disgust. 

One of his hands struck something which 
tumbled with a dull thud to the floor. 
Looking to see what it was, he realized 
that it was the steatite seal-oil lamp he 
had noticed hours before and had quite 
forgotten. He picked it up and examined 
it carefully. It was genuine surely, and 
the most splendid one he had ever seen, 
nearly three feet long and weighing at 
least fifty pounds. At once his trader 
instinct was roused. It must be that 
they were near to the quarry from which 
these rare lamps were made, else this one 
would not be so large. He looked about 
the room. There were three of the lamps 
here. Were there as many in the other 
houses ? Well, perhaps not, for some 
houses were smaller, but there would be 


116 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


at least fifty in all. Could these people 
be induced to part with them.f^ If they 
could, would it be possible to arrange 
some other form of lamp for the winter 
till the supply could be renewed Could 
he rightly take them, if this'^ere not 
possible? Was it possible that the quarry 
was near enough so that he and Thompson 
might visit it? These and many other 
questions went racing through his mind. 
He felt as some wanderer might, who had 
suddenly come into a cave sparkling with 
diamonds. There was no longer any idea 
of not returning to his own country in the 
springtime. With the possibility of carry- 
ing home such treasure he must return ! 

But the shouting of the villagers grew 
louder and more excited, telling that soon 
the journey would begin. Stretching his 
stiffened limbs, he stood for a moment 
by the seal-oil lamp, then bending, 
dropped to his knees and crept from 
the house into the broad, everlasting 
moonlight of this weird land. 


CHAPTER XI 


LOST 

Thompson was slow to admit that he 
was lost. It seemed such an impossible 
thing. He had always been able to keep 
his bearings in every condition and cir- 
cumstance; yet he had gone in the direc- 
tion which he was sure should have taken 
him to the village of his friends, the Nag- 
yuktogmiuts, and before him lay pile after 
pile of ice with no sign of the round domes 
of the native homes. 

He altered his course a trifle and re- 
traced his steps, still to no effect. It 
was very necessary that he find that vil- 
lage soon, for he had hunted long on the 
ice floes. He was tired and hungry, and 
by the feel of the air he knew the ther- 
mometer to be down to at least forty 


118 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


degrees below. To attempt to rest in 
such a temperature without food would 
be perilous. So he tramped doggedly on, 
still unwilling to believe that he was lost. 
He was not willing even to consider the 
consequences of such a possibility. To 
be lost on a vast ocean of ice, which was 
crossed only at great intervals by the 
trail of a single native or by the camp 
trail of a native village, to be without a 
sleeping bag and with only a limited supply 
of ammunition would be a thing unthink- 
able. Yet the possibility forced itself upon 
him in spite of all his vigorous mental 
protest. 

At last he sat down and thought the 
thing through. He could march on per- 
haps six hours longer. He was not sure 
his endurance would reach the seven-hour 
limit. He had tested himself out on the 
trail and knew that limit almost to a frac- 
tion of an hour. If he chanced upon a 
seal or a white bear, he could prolong his 
life somewhat longer, for with warming 


LOST 


119 


food, he might risk a short sleep. He 
thought this out carefully, then rose to 
go forward. It did not much matter now 
in what direction he was to go, for he had 
at last admitted that he was lost. The 
all-important thing was to go in a straight 
line. By this method he might cross the 
trail of a hunter or the camp trail of a 
village, or he might reach the shore, where 
his chances for shelter would be much 
better. Knowing that in walking he had 
a tendency to turn to the left, he at- 
tempted to allow for this bit of ‘‘personal 
equation” by dragging himself by force 
toward the right. By this method he felt 
that he was keeping a fairly straight- 
ahead course, though it might be some- 
what hitchy and crooked in smaller details. 

Three hours, four, five, six hours he 
marched stolidly on; his eyes were ever 
alert, but his mind, as far as possible, was 
asleep, for he realized that he needed to 
conserve nervous energy, and thinking used 
up this energy. He rejoiced to find that 


m CAPTAIN KITUK 

he was going to be able to do seven hours. 
Even a man who faces death rejoices in an 
unrealized abundance of life. 

But suddenly his heart leaped with joy. 
He had come upon the broad, beaten trail 
of an Eskimo village ! 

What village it was he did not stop to 
consider. Indeed, it was too late for all 
that. He must have shelter and food and 
that within an hour, or he would fall in 
the trail. 

Almost before he realized it, he was 
being surrounded by dark phantom-like 
figures which now appeared above the ice 
piles and now disappeared. It was evi- 
dent that he was among strangers. 

The old play of suspicion, suspense, and 
perhaps a fight was evidently to be enacted 
here. In his physical condition, he was 
no match for the weakest of the strangers. 
It was useless to go farther. To do so 
was to waste his strength, of which little 
enough remained. Selecting a great, broad 
ice cake which had been reared into the 


LOST 


m 


air by the press of the floe, he stood with 
his back to it. Should he throw down his 
rifle as a sign of peace He did not know 
the temper of these new villagers. He 
threw a cartridge into his rifle instead. 
In his veins there flowed the blood of the 
Anglo-Saxon race. The spirit of self-de- 
fense was part of his heritage. It was 
evident that the strangers were armed 
only with copper-pointed spears. He must 
not allow them to approach too closely. 

But all this suspense and speculation 
vanished in an instant. A new and peculiar 
interest occupied the thoughts of all. A 
small child, dressed in a spotless white 
fawn-skin parka, wandered out into the 
open space between the hiding place of 
the Eskimos and the vantage point of 
the white man. She had the strange, 
quick, groping step of the blind. 

Ca-ca ! Ca-ca ! ” (Beware ! Beware !) 
came from every native. But the child, 
misinterpreting their warning, continued 
in the direction from which no warning 


122 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


came. That was in the direction of the 
white man. In a moment she was within 
reach of his hand. Obeying instinct 
merely, he did that which he would have 
done under any other circumstances; he 
placed his hands gently on her shoulders 
and turning her right-about said, 
‘‘Ubagok!” (That way!) 

Then for just a moment he allowed his 
hand to rest on the child ’s uncovered 
head. And in that instant he became 
conscious of the fact that her hair was 
flaxen and her face as fair as his own ! 

Instantly there came to his mind the 
words of Stenson, the explorer: 

“Some of these people to the east of 
you are as white as you or I. I have 
sent that word back to the world outside, 
and they do not believe me, that is, many 
of them do not. If you can persuade 
some of those blond Eskimos to accom- 
pany you to Point Barrow, on your re- 
turn, where they will be seen by a number 
of white people, you will do me a favor 


LOST 


US 

which cannot be estimated.” These had 
been the words of the explorer, and 
Thompson had promised to attempt the 
mission. 

And now here he was in the very midst 
of the people he sought. Was he to be 
ruthlessly murdered by them on the eve 
of what might be his most wonderful 
adventure ? 

But his hand still rested on the head of 
the child, who seemed reluctant to move. 
The natives meantime had crowded round. 
So close were they now that the outcome 
of a battle, if battle there must be, was 
decided in advance. Fearing they might 
think he was working some charm upon 
the child, he gave her a gentle push, at 
the same time exclaiming, "‘Ubagok! 
Kullemuck!” (That way! Hurry!) and 
almost instantly she was once more with 
her people. 

The little pantomime won the confidence 
of the villagers. Casting down their 
spears, they rushed forward, asking a 


124 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


hundred questions at once, none of which 
Thompson was able to answer with satis- 
faction. But once he had shown them 
that he was hungry and tired, they ushered 
him to the village, and an hour later, 
having feasted on frozen fish, he lay down 
beneath a smothering supply of deerskins 
for a long sleep. 

When he at last awoke from a refreshing 
sleep, it was with a dim consciousness of 
an unfulfilled resolve. After groping 
blindly about in his mind, it at last came 
to him. He had resolved to hunt out the 
little girl, who had saved his life by her 
helpless innocence, and to determine if 
possible whether her sight might be re- 
stored by a skilled physician. 

‘'And if it can be,” he told himself, 
“she shall be one of the blond Eskimos 
to go to Point Barrow, if it takes me two 
years to obtain the consent of her parents.” 

With this purpose in view therefore, as 
soon as he was dressed, he wandered out 
into the village and was fortunate enough 


LOST 


125 


to come upon the child at once. It took 
but a moment’s investigation to convince 
him that indeed her trouble might be 
remedied by a slight operation, and there 
again he formed his resolve to take her 
to Point Barrow, where she might be 
examined by the doctor who came every 
year on the revenue cutter, Thetis, 

His attention was drawn from the child 
by a loud “Hello !” 

It was Kituk who, having realized that 
the white man was lost, had been guided 
in his search by one of the Eskimos of the 
other village and had at last been brought 
to the village of the blond Eskimos. 

Here, then, Thompson found himself 
reunited with his boon companion and at 
the same time face to face with the new 
problem of securing the consent of some 
of these blond Eskimos to return with 
him as far as Point Barrow. This would 
be no easy task. There remained but 
two months before the homeward jour- 
ney must be begun. In this time he must 


126 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


live with these people, hunt with them, 
share their hardships and joys, and if 
need be fight for them. He must win his 
way to their hearts completely, so com- 
pletely that at least two or three of them 
would trust him to the uttermost. He 
resolved at once to concentrate all of his 
attention on the parents of the blind 
child. He had christened her Dawnless, 
in honor of the dawnless night which 
constantly hung over them. 


CHAPTER XII 


A FIGHT WITH INDIANS 

Thompson marched along in a brown 
study. They had been on a pilgrimage 
to the steatite quarry whence had come 
the steatite lamps and pots of all the 
Arctic mainland of America and Asia. 
He had expressed a desire to see this spot, 
and when the blond Eskimo, father of 
Dawnless, had offered to lead him to it, 
he had instantly accepted, feeling that 
this little expedition to be undertaken 
only by the Blond with his wife and 
daughter, accompanied by Thompson and 
Kituk, would tend to strengthen the tie 
between them as perhaps nothing else 
could. He had been somewhat dis- 
appointed in the quarry. It had turned 
out to be merely a tumbled pile of rocks, 
strewn here and there with chips made 


128 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


by workers of former days, and the whole 
half covered with snow. 

He was quite as much disappointed in 
his task of securing the consent of the 
blond Eskimo to bring his wife and child 
to the coast with him. The west held 
some evil dread for the simple man of 
the icy wilderness. Perhaps in days gone 
by there had been some great battle be- 
tween these people and the people of 
the west, just as there had been between 
the people of the Siberian mainland and 
the inhabitants of the Arctic coast of the 
American continent. Indeed it would 
seem that there must have been, for else 
why did not the traffic continue between 
these two territories just as it must have 
done when the aged steatite lamps were 
brought to the west coast? 

Thompson, therefore, was troubled. 
How was he to prove to these people that 
he could guarantee them safe conduct, or 
at least, that he would risk his own life 
to guarantee them protection? 


A FIGHT WITH INDIANS 129 


The answer came in an instant of time. 
He was wakened from his meditation by 
an exclamation from Kituk. Looking up 
quickly, he beheld in the broad ice plain 
beyond, where their snow houses stood, 
a score of figures dancing about on the 
ice. 

That these were not Nagyuktogmiuts 
nor blond Eskimo he knew in an instant. 
They were not dressed in furs, but in skins, 
and were of a taller and slimmer build. 
Almost unconsciously the words, “In- 
dians from the Land of the Little Sticks,” 
came to his lips. 

This supposition was instantly con- 
firmed by both Kituk and the Blond. ' 

Here then was a predicament ! In com- 
ing to the mine they had gone a five-day 
journey from the rest of the tribe of 
Blonds. Their food and their sleeping 
bags were in the snow igloos about which 
the Indians were dancing. To return on 
a five-day journey without food or shel- 
ter, when they were already hungry and 


130 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


exhausted, seemed beyond the power of 
any man’s endurance and especially im- 
possible for the little Dawnless, who for 
some time had been carried either by her 
father or by Kituk. 

Suddenly Thompson remembered to 
have heard the Blond say that he had 
at one time been held as a slave by a 
village of these Indians. He must, there- 
fore, know their language. 

“Tell the Blond to ask them what 
they want,” said the white man, turning 
to Kituk. 

Having received the request, the Blond 
made his hands into a trumpet and 
shouted some words of a strange tongue 
to the dancing natives. They at once 
stopped their dancing, and one of them 
hurled back an answer which bore all the 
tones of utter defiance. 

“What did he say.^^” asked Thompson. 

The Blond seemed reluctant to answer, 
and there was an unwonted huskiness in 
his voice as he said to Kituk : 


A FIGHT WITH INDIANS 131 


“They say they wanted only food when 
they came to our camp, but now one of 
their members has been bewitched to 
death by my little blind girl, and they 
demand blood revenge. They would kill 
her.” The Blond rested one hand on the 
child’s head as he finished speaking, and 
the mother, uttering a little cry of alarm, 
fell on her knees and clutched the child’s 
feet as if in defiance to the demand. 

Thompson meditated for a single mo- 
ment. He was thinking over the inci- 
dents he had read in which these Indians 
from the Land of the Little Sticks had 
demanded blood revenge. In not a single 
instance, so far as he could remember, 
had a parley availed. Always there had 
been a fight or a forced acquiescence to 
their fanatical plans. 

“Are you ready to fight he asked, 
turning to Kituk. 

For answer Kituk threw a cartridge 
into his powerful rifle. 

“Tell the Blond to take his wife and 


132 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


child farther back behind the ice piles/’ 
said Thompson. 

A moment later the white man and his 
Eskimo companion threw themselves for 
protection behind ice bowlders, ready to 
fight to the end. 

“Shoot to lame and not to kill. Put 
their arms out of commission if you can,” 
said Thompson, as five stalwart fellows, 
following their example, threw themselves 
behind barriers. 

There was a sharp report, and a bullet 
whizzed over Thompson’s head. The In- 
dian, in recharging his rifle, left its muzzle 
exposed. In an instant, in answer to 
Thompson’s unerring aim, the stock splin- 
tered into a thousand pieces, and the 
Indian, with a howl, left the combat to 
his four companions. 

A second bullet smashed into Thomp- 
son’s cake of ice and sent a splinter against 
his forehead which for a moment stunned 
him and left his face streaming with 
blood. Quickly tying his handkerchief 


A FIGHT WITH INDIANS 133 


about his head to stop the flow of blood, 
he cheered his companion, who had dis- 
abled another Indian. 

The battle was soon over. The Indians 
were no match for the marksmanship of 
the white man and tjie Eskimo, and at 
last they all retired, more or less disabled, 
leaving the camp in charge of its rightful 
owners. v 

As Thompson had suspected, the In- 
dian which was said to have been be- 
witched to death was not dead but had 
drugged himself from Thompson’s medi- 
cine chest. When he had been given an 
antidote, he was able to return to his 
own people, to tell no doubt how he had 
been raised from the dead by the white 
man. But Thompson’s little party did 
not remain to see how he was received 
by his people, for the lack of blankets 
and supplies left in the deserted camp 
indicated that this was but a small scout- 
ing party, and that the main body of 
natives was not far away. 


134 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


They were soon on their way back to 
the village of the blond Eskimos. 

As they came to camp that night, 
the blond Eskimo and his wife talked 
long and earnestly together, and their 
glances were often upon the white man. 
At last the Blond, turning to Kituk, 
said : 

“Peeleeuktuk wunga, sulie, cunie, sulie 
micakininie, nagoovaruktuk.” Having 
finished, he pointed first toward the west, 
then toward the white man. 

Kituk, smiling, explained that he had 
said that he and his wife and child were 
ready to accompany Thompson to Point 
Barrow. 

Thompson sprang to his feet and 
grasped the hand of the Blond, while he 
allowed the other hand to rest caressingly 
upon the head of the little, blind Dawn- 
less, whom he hoped to have transformed 
into ‘‘Dawn’’ by the aid of a skillful 
physician. 

But a long way lay before them. The 


A FIGHT WITH INDIANS 135 


advancing of the daylight told them they 
had used up too much time on the trip 
to the quarry. They must hasten with 
all speed toward the point on the ice floe 
where their ship was waiting. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THEIR SCHOONER DRIFTS OUT TO SEA 

Kituk was footsore and weary, almost 
asleep as he walked, but still he plodded 
on, unconscious of it all. Was not the 
very joy of living coursing through his 
veins? Was it not spring? Was not the 
sun shining all day and all night? Were 
they not soon to climb aboard their 
schooner and pop-pop away home? Why 
then, should one think of weariness and 
pain ? 

Yes, the sun was shining all day and 
all night. He remembered how the great 
darkness had disappeared little by little, 
little by little; how first there had been 
a faint flush in the southern sky; how 
noon by noon this had broadened and 
brightened till at last the red disk of the 


SCHOONER DRIFTS TO SEA 137 


sun had appeared for a few brief moments 
above the horizon; how it had risen, 
risen, risen day by day, till at last there 
were equal days and nights, and then 
how amazingly rapid was the increase day 
by day till there was no darkness at all, 
and one was obliged to hide his face in 
his sleeping rug to get needed rest. 

He fairly bubbled over with joy as he 
thought of it all now, and how things 
had gone with them in these last days 
among the Nagyuktogmiuts. There had 
been the problem of trading for the stea- 
tite lamps without robbing the villagers 
of their much-needed light and heat. This 
was solved by the making of temporary 
lamps from heavy oaken timbers, which 
had been brought on the schooner for 
trade goods. Rifles, ammunition, needles, 
thread, and calico were traded for fifty 
lamps, and all were happy over the bar- 
gain, especially the Nagyuktogmiuts, who 
wondered how the two men could use so 
many lamps. 


138 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


With spring had come the caribou, 
crack-cracking their way over the ice to 
their summer feeding ground far to the 
north, in lands quite unknown to the 
white man. These had paid their heavy 
toll to the larder of the Nagyuktogmiuts, 
for the white men had used their rifles 
freely though not wastefully. 

There had been a glorious day of battle 
with three great barren-ground grizzly 
bears, as the three prime pelts on the sled 
before him testifled. 

Thompson had begged the explorer, 
Stenson, to return with them, telling him 
that the outside world was clamoring for 
a sight of him, but he had refused. He 
had other lands to discover and explore. 
He hoped to go far to the north during 
the coming summer and explore the sum- 
mer home of the caribou. He had lived 
among the natives, eating their food and 
living their life, for two years; there was 
no reason why he might not do so for 
many years to come. He thanked them 


SCHOONER DRIFTS TO SEA 139 


for the taste of what they were pleased 
to call “civilized grub”, and begged them 
to carry a great quantity of ethnological 
specimens to Nome for him. This they 
had been more than glad to do. These 
specimens were all aboard the schooner, 
as were the steatite lamps and other 
trophies of the journey. 

Swish ! Kituk’s foot splashed in a pool 
of water. His brow clouded. They had 
lingered full long with their friends. They 
had been faced by an overflowed river and 
had lost three days skirting it. They were 
late. But again his brow cleared. Just 
over this next hill lay the ice flat where 
rested their schooner and its precious 
cargo. Just one more hard pull, and all 
would be well. Would the ocean be 
cleared of ice.^ Would they be able to 
sail away at once for the mouth of the 
Mackenzie, Point Barrow, home ? Very 
soon they should see. If all was well 
they would return a day’s journey and 
bring the blond Eskimo family to the 


140 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


ship. He spoke to the tired dogs and 
ran ahead to encourage them. Seeing 
this, they plowed along at a more rapid 
pace, while the government man plodded 
behind, wrapped in thoughts. 

Kituk, straining his eyes for a first 
sight of the ocean, gave a cry of dismay. 
The ocean had cleared indeed. It was 
cleared to within five rods of the sandy 
beach ! The great flat of ice which bore 
their schooner had drifted out to sea ! 
There was nothing to be seen but a broad 
expanse of restless, rippling waters ! 

Together the two sank upon the sled, 
which now rested upon the crest of the 
hill. All was lost, — their treasure, their 
schooner, the collections which had cost 
a brave explorer two years of toil, — all 
drifting somewhere on the ocean ; a 
schooner with no sails set, no man aboard. 
And what was to become of Dawnless 
and her family.^ How utterly tired they 
were ! How their muscles ached ! How 
their stomachs craved food ! There was 


SCHOONER DRIFTS TO SEA 141 


but one meal on the sled ; but a few 
rounds of ammunition for the rifles. 
What fools they had been ! They real- 
ized now how much they had been travel- 
ing in the light and strength of the joy of 
hope. 

What could they hope for now.^ To 
return to their friends the Nagyuktogmiuts 
and the explorer was impossible. Already 
the river they had crossed must be swollen 
beyond its banks with madly rushing 
waters. To go forward seemed equally 
useless. How were they to make their 
way over the hundreds of miles of tundra 
and hillsides to the mouth of the Macken- 
zie.^ To do this in winter was danger- 
ous ; to do it in summer was impossible. 

Yet “hope springs eternal.” As they 
sat there alone, seemingly powerless to 
help themselves, there appeared above the 
next hilltop a pair of broad antlers and a 
magniflcent brown head. Kituk’s keen 
eyes saw it. Thompson saw it too, and 
was upon his feet, rifle in hand. - 


142 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


‘‘No, let me!” the boy whispered 
eagerly, starting forward. “I am not so 
tired.” 

Thompson settled back on the sled. 
The boy was right. His brain, his hand 
was more steady for a time like this. Just 
what the successful stalking of this lone 
caribou, which, by some chance, had 
strayed from the herd which must have 
gone north weeks before, meant to these 
two wanderers no one knew. It might 
stand between them and death. It might 
merely postpone that event a few days; 
it would do this, at least. 

As Thompson sat watching, the head 
disappeared. For a moment his heart 
stopped beating. Had Kituk seen it ? 
Ah ! yes, he had, for he was beginning 
to skirt the hillside. But again the head 
appeared farther toward the sea. Again 
there was a moment’s suspense, but again 
the skillful hunter saw and changed his 
movements. 

And now as the caribou raised his 


SCHOONER DRIFTS TO SEA 143 


splendid head to sniff the air, Kituk 
leveled his rifle for the shot. Thompson 
hardly dared breathe for fear that the 
animal, a mile away, might hear and go 
bounding off. Slowly, steadily, the rifle 
rose. Now it wavered for an instant ; 
now it stood firmly against the white 
hillside. Would he succeed.^ Could he? 
He was but a boy, and he was weary, 
fearfully weary, with the travel. Could 
he make the shot? There would be but 
one opportunity, for the animal, if missed, 
would go bounding down the hillside and 
away before he could be sighted again. 
So the thoughts coursed through the white 
man’s brain as he waited the half second 
before the puff of smoke appeared at the 
muzzle of the rifle barrel, and the monarch 
of the tundra, staggering, tottered for the 
fall. 

With shaking limbs the man arose and 
waved his hand above his head, while he 
uttered a hoarse shout. 

For a time they were saved, but for 


144 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


how long ? Dragging the dogs to their 
feet, he bade them “Mush/’ There was 
a good feed before them, and soon enough 
they were munching at bones and juicy 
meat, while the men roasted bits over a 
driftwood fire and felt better for the 
moment because of the bracing push and 
vigor of food forcing the blood once more 
through their veins. 

“You know,” said Kituk, as they 
finished, “when I was on that second 
hill I saw an ice fioe far to the north and 
west. The wind is north. The current 
is west. I wonder — ” he did not finish. 
Thompson understood, but neither dared 
voice the hope. 

“We’ll rest for a few hours here,” said 
the white man, “then we’ll follow the 
coast west until we are stopped by a 
river.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


SAVED 

Kituk cut the rope and allowed the 
form to float free. Because of the silvery 
whiteness of his coat they had called him 
‘‘Collemuk”, which means flour. But now 
he drifted there, a poor drowned thing. 
The little waves rippling over him tossed 
the flakes of hair here and there, showing 
the protruding ribs beneath. He had paid 
the price. The cold and the struggle in 
the briny waters had been beyond his 
power of endurance. His gallant little 
soul had flown. Many times he had 
tugged bravely at the rope when the wind 
was howling out from the heart of an Arctic 
blizzard. Never again ! Kituk thought of 
all this, and a great lump rose in his 
throat. And after this came a question: 


146 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


would he, too, and his companion, the 
government man, share the fate of the 
poor little dog ? Time only could tell, 
and a very little time at that. 

They were standing on a cake of ice 
far from land, as far also from the object 
of their cold and perilous journey. 
Thompson stood on the other edge of the 
ice cake, his garments dripping the briny 
water, ready for another plunge and an- 
other short burning swim to the next cake. 
Could he endure it to the end ? Could he 
swim from this cake, and that one, and 
that one till the schooner was reached.^ 
Kituk felt a blush of shame at his poor 
part in the matter. He could not swim; 
he could only hang to the sled and be half 
dragged through the water by the dog 
team while he paddled as best he could 
with one hand and Thompson swam ahead 
leading the dogs. 

It had seemed that the vision they had 
had of an ice floe carried back to land, 
bringing their schooner with it, would be 


SAVED 147 

/ 

realized. It was the very ice floe they had 
seen a week before which they were riding 
on now. They had followed it hour by 
hour through what seemed almost an end- 
less calm when the floe only moved parallel 
with the coast, dragged on by the current. 
Finally they had sighted the cake which 
bore the schooner upon its surface. All 
was well with the schooner, they could see 
that. The cake had not broken up. Then 
they had followed, no food, no sleep save a 
nap snatched here and there, but followed, 
followed on and on to the west. They had 
mushed through the soft, spongy tundra. 
They had forded rivers and hung their 
clothes on willow bushes to dry, while 
they shivered in the pale Arctic sunlight. 

At last the wind had changed to shore- 
ward, and with highly beating hearts they 
had watched their precious schooner, 
which meant life or death itself to them, 
drifting, drifting hourly closer. It seemed 
beyond reason now that the whole floe 
would not come bumping on shore and 


148 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


leave them but to make their way across 
the solid ice floor to their ship and to 
steam away. But when their hopes were 
highest, the wind suddenly calmed. Little 
by little the floe drifted still shoreward, 
borne on by its own impetus, but at last it 
had seemed to move no more. Then there 
came signs of a wind from the land which 
would drive the floe out to sea. There 
had been but one thing left to do, swim for 
it. To think of following the floe through 
another storm in which it would be blown 
out to sea, to hope then for its return 
would be utter madness. To remain on 
land was equally useless. They had seen 
no signs of game since the killing of the 
caribou. 

Kituk reviewed all this duly in his mind 
while he shook the water in showers from 
his drenched clothing. But suddenly he 
drew himself together and prepared to push 
the dogs, poor shivering creatures, once 
more into the benumbing waters, and 
to follow them with the sled. 



Kituk’s strong hand was there to grasp him and drag him from 
the sea. Page H.9. 


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SAVED 


149 


There are some struggles which are too 
terrific for description ; there are some 
indescribable blind agonies of pain and 
suffering, of hope and despair deeply 
blended. Such was the struggle of the 
government man as he made his way to 
the schooner which now seemed but a 
mirage and now a reality, until at last his 
hands touched the edge of the cake which 
bore the schooner on its shining surface. 
Then, feeling that he had reached the 
schooner at last, and putting out his hand 
to climb upon the deck, he fell back once 
more into the briny waters. But Kituk’s 
strong hand was there to grasp him and 
drag him from the sea. The dogs were 
there to sled him speedily to the schooner. 

There was soon a roaring fire in the little 
cook stove of the Sea Wolf, that little 
stove with one cracked lid and a warped 
crosspiece ! There were rub -downs with 
the deliciously rough towels, which still 
hung on a rack by the fire. There were 
dim shadows of hot canned soup gurgling 


150 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


down his throat. And then he slept. 
How long he slept, he could not tell, for 
the sun was shining all day and all night, 
and his watch was water-logged. Any- 
way, he awoke with a start and a groan, 
and then a glad shout, as he realized where 
he was. Kituk, who had been sleeping 
in a chair by the stove, started and rubbed 
his eyes. The well-fed, contented dogs 
on deck heard the shout and banged the 
deck with their tails. 

“ Kituk, wake up !” shouted the govern- 
ment man. “We’re on the Sea Wolf, and 
it’s your watch on deck.” 

“We’re on the Sea Wolf,'' Kituk grinned 
sleepily, “but somebody’s stopped the 
engine.” 

“We’ll fix that all right,” said the 
government man, creeping gingerly out 
of his berth. “Let’s have mulligan for 
dinner.” 

To pole a smaller cake of ice close to 
this one, which bore their schooner, to 
set the capstan upon it and drag the 


SAVED 


151 


schooner close to the edge, to shove it 
with a splash into the ocean once more, 
to start the engine and go pop-popping 
back for Dawnless and then toward home 
were all very simple matters. The re- 
mainder of the journey was a round of joy. 
At every village they were hailed as men 
returned from the dead. At every village 
they traded one or more of their steatite 
lamps for valuable fox skins, mink skins, 
or beaver. At every point Kituk was 
given a great festival in his honor till 
Thompson became almost envious of his 
Eskimo companion, who had so many 
relatives and friends, and was tempted to 
wish himself one of them. 

At Point Barrow Dawnless and her 
parents were left. Here Dawnless, through 
the aid of the skillful physician, was 
given her first glimpse of the world in 
which she lived, and here she remained, 
the wonder and idol of the village till 
winter came and released her for her 
homeward journey. 


15S 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


Here and there an eider duck drifted 
idly in the glassy waters, while beneath 
shone the phosphorescent light of a hun- 
dred jellyfishes. Thompson’s heart was 
at peace. They were short of gasoline, 
but what of that? The sails were set, 
and the gentle breeze bore them hourly 
nearer to Cape Prince of Wales, where 
they would be welcomed by three hundred 
people, eager to hear of their adventures, 
and to know of the success of their trip 
and their trading. Suddenly there was 
wafted to him from over the far-away sand 
dunes the snatches of a tune. 

“ Hi la lee, hi la lee, hi la lee, la lo ! Hi 
la lee, hi la lee, hi la hila la lede O !” 

Kituk grinned. Thompson threw his 
cap into the air. It was Oblecok, the 
fattest, laziest of his reindeer boys. But 
what of that now? It was one of his own 
people ! How often he had heard him sing 
that tune, as he went about the work of 
the deer camp or drifted upon the sea in 
his kiak. 


SAVED 


153 


He raced to the engine room and threw 
the whistle wide open in three wild 
screeches. 

Heads appeared above the sand dunes, 
followed by wild shouts of delight. In 
half an hour the deck was swarming with 
deer herders, their wives and their children, 
all “Matna”-ing and “Ah-ne-ca^-ing at 
the strange wonders which had come from 
the land of the Nagyuktogmiuts and at 
the tales which the travelers had to tell. 

The remaining steatite lamps, with the 
furs traded for along the coast, were dis- 
posed of for a good figure at Nome. Tak- 
ing it all in all, the trip was a fairly profit- 
able one, and the two boys felt well repaid 
for their year of danger and hardship. 
They had made life more possible to some 
isolated people; they had forwarded the 
cause of knowledge and science a little, 
and had maintained Kituk’s name of 
‘‘Best trader on the Arctic Mainland.’’ 

Kituk took on a new stock of trade 
goods and pulled out for the Siberian 


154 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


towns, while Thompson sailed on the mail 
steamer back to his post, where he relieved 
his substitute and resumed his work. For 
a time he dragged his bed to the floor and 
slept on a deerskin rug, but at last he 
became accustomed to the luxuries of his 
own kind of civilization, and life went on 
as before; only for both the government 
man and the Eskimo boy, life was richer 
and better for the joy of the memory of 
experience and adventure. 


CHAPTER XV 


BLACK NUGGETS 

“But, Mr. Luther, you do not realize 
how unreasonable it is!” exclaimed 
Thompson. “Perhaps you do not know 
that it will mean a great deal of suffering 
for our Eskimo people.” 

“Sufferings or no suffering,” the miner’s 
face hardened, “I piled the wood while 
they were wasting their time at Nome. 
You know as well as I do that according 
to their law as well as our own, that makes 
it my wood. They killed my dog last 
year. If they can get along without me, 
I can get along without them.” 

“But your dog was chasing the rein- 
deer.” 

“Do they kill a dog every time he chases 
a cow in the States 


156 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


“In Alaska the dogs kill the deer.” 

“Not mine.” The miner struck his fists 
together savagely, then turned to go into 
his cabin. 

“You — you wouldn’t sell the wood.^” 
Thompson faltered. 

“No, I might need it myself.” At 
that the miner went into his cabin and 
closed the door behind him. 

Thompson wrinkled his brow as he 
turned to make his way back around the 
foot of Cape Prince of Wales Mountain 
to his Government schoolhouse and the 
native village. Here, indeed, was a serious 
situation. This miner, who was in charge 
of the tin mining property of Tin City, 
had piled all the summer’s driftwood on 
the beach that lay before his cabin. This 
had been the common wood-gathering 
ground for the entire village of Wales, 
some three hundred Eskimos. Drifting 
out of the mouth of the Yukon, some 
hundred miles away, the wood had been 
carried by the currents here and there. 


BLACK NUGGETS 


157 


till at last it lodged on this broad stretch 
of sandy beach. There in the autumn, 
when they returned from their trading, the 
Eskimos would find it and pile it for their 
winter’s use. But this year they had 
found it all neatly piled before their 
coming. And, according to their law, as 
the miner had said, this piling had made 
it his wood. 

The situation would not have been so 
serious in the early history of the Eskimo 
people, for in those days they did not have 
the tiny stoves bought from the white 
men, or made ingeniously out of old scraps 
of tin. 

In those days, too, there had been an 
abundance of whale oil, and they had 
depended upon their whale-oil and seal- 
oil lamps for warmth. But now, with no 
wood and no oil, and no opportunity of 
buying coal at any price, what were they 
to do.^ 

‘‘Need it himself!” Thompson exploded. 
“’Bout as much as I need a team of horses 


158 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


and a mule ! His bins are bursting with 
company coal ! ’’ 

He looked away at the piles of white ice 
which lay all about him, and thought of 
this trail over which the Eskimo women 
had carried wood winter after winter on 
their small dog sleds. It was five miles; 
over ice bowlders, around ice piles winding 
here and there, the trail led to the village. 
Surely this was hard enough, but to be 
robbed of their wood entirely, and without 
warning, that was worse ! The killing of 
Luther’s dog the previous year had been 
unfortunate. Yet, it was only part of the 
old, old question, the question of the rights 
of dog and deer. In this land where the 
dog was worth from twenty-five dollars to 
three hundred, and where the deer was 
quite as valuable, problems were constantly 
arising. If Luther allowed his dogs to 
run free and they killed a deer, then surely 
he should pay for the deer. But there 
was no law that said so. It was easier to 
kill the dog before he killed the deer, so 


BLACK NUGGETS 


159 


thought the reindeer herders, and so they 
had done. And now — well, something 
must be done about the wood. But what, 
the Government man could not at this 
moment decide. He quickened his steps 
and was soon in his own house boiling 
coffee for his late supper. 

‘'Captain Kituk”, not Captain but just 
plain Kituk, for the time being, paused 
to rest in the shelter of a rocky cliff about 
which the winds swirled in angry gusts. 

It had been a hard, disheartening trip. 
Tramping hour after hour, following the 
broad trail of the herd of fifteen hundred 
reindeer, expecting every moment to come 
in sight of them, he had at last discovered, 
mingled with the hard hoof tracks, the 
softer tread of some animal, a dog, or 
perhaps a wolf. Then, tightening his belt, 
he had marched on hour after hour, accom- 
panied only by his golden collie dog, not 
knowing when he might sight the fieeing 
herd. At last he had come upon the torn 
carcass of a yearling, which had been 


160 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


fallen upon by the pursuer and slaugh- 
tered. 

Now the herd was started on their way 
back to camp, and for a moment the boy 
rested and thought over once more, for 
the hundredth time, the problems of the 
deer herders. For the time being, he was 
superintendent of the Wales herd, and as 
such it was his duty to solve as many of 
the problems as were within his power. 
There was always the problem of the 
prowling wolf. The reindeer, constantly 
watched during the short summer time 
when the fawns were young and helpless, 
could not be watched during the wild 
stormy winter. They were simply driven 
into camp every day, then allowed to go 
out once more into the foothills and tundra 
for feeding. If a wandering wolf appeared 
and stampeded them, there was nothing 
to do but follow and bring them back, 
just as he had done. And for the wolf, 
if he happened to be sighted, there was 
but one answer, ,a well-directed shot from 


BLACK NUGGETS 


161 


the herder’s rifle, and his pelt made into 
parka collars. 

But there was also the problem of the 
wandering dog. And though quite as 
dangerous and more numerous, his problem 
was quite different. He was some one’s 
property. 

Kituk scowled as he tried to think it all 
through. If this had been a dog, one of 
Joe Luther’s dogs, and he should come 
upon him, what would he do ? 

‘‘If this is one of his dogs and I kill 
it,” thought Kituk, “what next will he 
do to my people and to me.^ He always 
claimed that his dogs were white man’s 
dogs and would not kill reindeer, but I 
never saw a dog that would not kill a 
reindeer, unless he was a yellow collie 
dog. And his are great, gray fellows ! 
My ! What dogs they are !” 

Kituk’s eyes grew wide in admiration, 
as he saw once more in imagination that 
team of but three giant dogs carry the 
miner with the speed of the wind over the 


162 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


glistening trail. He heaved a sigh of 
regret. ‘‘It certainly would be a pity to 
kill one of them!” Then straightening 
his shoulders, “But then, we have our 
rights too, and he should keep his dogs 
chained.” ^ ; 

Just as he was about to go on his way 
after the herd, which was being urged 
on by his faithful collie, his eye caught 
something black lying among the small 
pebbles of the stream’s bank. The wind, 
eddying about this spot, had left the 
ground bare. He picked the object up, 
then uttered an exclamation of surprise ; 
‘ ‘ Ah-ne-ca ! Heavy uk-tuk ! ’ ’ He had 
the custom of his people of combining 
Eskimo words with English words when 
excited. The bit of black rock was very 
heavy indeed. Kituk thought it nearly as 
heavy as the yellow nuggets for which the 
white men had searched his country far 
and wide. But this was black as the coal 
which the great steamers burned in their 
boilers. His first thought was to cast it 


BLACK NUGGETS 


163 


aside. But at last he stowed it away in 
his pocket and, searching about among the 
gravel stones, found two other lumps not 
quite so large as the first. 

‘‘Show them to Thompson,” he said to 
himself, as at last he tied the string about 
his parka tighter, and turned to face the 
storm. 

“You say you think it was a wolf?” 
Thompson turned to Kituk and smiled, 
when the boy was telling of the lost year- 
ling a while later. This Eskimo boy was 
seldom wrong. “But what makes you 
think it was?” 

“Big tracks and the way he killed the 
deer.” 

“Bigger tracks than Luther’s dogs 
make?” 

“No — but different — mebby — ” the 
boy hesitated. “If it is Luther’s dogs, 
what shall I do? Shoot ’em?” 

Thompson rubbed his chin in medita- 
tion. “One doesn’t wish to kill such 
dogs,” he said slowly. “They must be 


164 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


worth fifty dollars apiece, and then, no 
one has seen them kill a deer. No one 
knows for sure that they would do it. 
The native dog, who is only a little way 
from a wolf, will do it, but down in the 
States a dog which will kill a domestic 
animal is the exception. But who knows 
what a good dog will do in a wolf dog’s 
company? You’ll have to use your own 
good common sense when the time comes 
to decide. And whatever you do. I’ll 
back you.” He paused a moment in 
reflection. “But one thing is sure; our 
people cannot afford to lose their deer. 
You say the yearling belonged to old 
Kitmesuk ? He has but five deer. He 
is an old man. He cannot hunt far on the 
ice floe now. In a year that deer would 
have provided him with the price of his 
winter’s flour. Now, it is gone. Something 
must be done to stop it. Do what you 
can.” 

Kituk turned to go, when something 
fell from his fingers and thumped on the 


BLACK NUGGETS 


165 


floor; it was one of the bits of black rock 
which he had found at the foot of the cliff. 

‘‘What’s that.^” Thompson picked it 
up and studied it curiously. 

“I don’t know. Do you?” 

“No, I don’t, — some kind of quartz 
though, I guess. May I keep it?” 

“Yes, sulie,” (‘‘more”) said Kituk, as he 
held out the other pieces. 

“Where did you find them?” 

“Lost River, about four miles from the 
beach.” 

The boy left the room, but for a long 
time the government man sat in his 
chair, puzzling over the three bits of 
quartz. He knew little enough about 
mining. He had yet to buy his first pick 
and pan. His prime business in this cold 
land was to help the Eskimo people, not 
to wander over the hills in search of the 
illusive “color.” But when opportunity 
knocks at your very door, what man can 
resist ? Perhaps I might say, who has a 
right to resist, especially if he has a mother 


166 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


and younger sisters depending upon him 
for support ? And opportunity seemed 
knocking at his door now ; knocking 
loudly, too. 

He had seen a few specimens of tin 
quartz, and as he studied these specimens, 
he became more and more convinced that 
this was placer tin which had been carried 
down by the river. 

For five years it had been known that 
there was quartz tin on Cape Prince of 
Wales Mountain; and nowhere else in the 
North American continent had it been 
discovered. A good tin mine was as good 
as a gold mine. But Cape Prince of 
Wales Mountain was right at the sea; no 
streams had their rise on its slopes, conse- 
quently no one had ever thought of search- 
ing for placer tin on the streams, though 
they had all been diligently panned for 
gold. Now, if this Eskimo boy had dis- 
covered a trace of placer tin on Lost River, 
only four miles from its source, and if there 
should prove to be heavy lodes of it on 


BLACK NUGGETS 


167 


bedrock, but fifteen feet below the surface, 
somebody’s fortune was made, several 
somebodies’, — and why not his own and 
the fortune of Kituk? For a time he 
dreamed of the things he would do for his 
younger sisters, of the home he would 
buy for his mother; of the things, also, 
which the generous-hearted Kituk could 
do for his people. 

‘‘We’ll have to have some practical 
miner in with us,” he thought to himself. 
“Who shall it be.'^” He instantly thought 
of Joe Luther. There was not a better- 
informed miner on the entire coast and, 
indeed, there was no other miner, good or 
bad, for sixty miles up and down the coast. 
But at once he thought of the feud between 
Luther and the Eskimo. “If only things 
were different,” he sighed, as he placed 
the bits of quartz on the window sill and 
went about his work. 


CHAPTER XVI 


A GRATEFUL MINER 

“He said he’d back me, whatever I 
did,” Kituk murmured to himself, as he 
raised the hammer to his rifle. “He said 
to use my good common sense.” 

Kituk understood this expression but 
imperfectly, yet he had a sense of what it 
meant ; an instinct told him that it meant 
that he must act wisely. 

Before him lay a narrow valley. 
Stampeding down that valley was the herd 
of fifteen hundred reindeer, and behind 
them, a gray streak showing sharply 
through the snow clouds, was Luther’s 
leader. Here, then, was the culprit ! 
Could there be a doubt of it now? He 
was caught in the very act ! Had it not 
been this dog that had killed Kitmesuk’s 


A GRATEFUL MINER 


169 


yearling and robbed him of his year’s sup- 
ply of flour? Kituk raised his rifle; then 
he lowered it again. He must use his good 
common sense. What should he do ? 

A half mile away on the hillside there 
appeared the form of a giant miner. He 
had come up from the tundra by the sea. 
He had been following the trail of a dog. 
It was Luther. In an instant his eye took 
in the panorama that was being played 
out by the boy, the dog, and the deer on the 
silent white foreground of snow. He saw 
the rifle in the boy’s hand rise, and his face 
became livid with rage. His own hand 
gripped his rifle barrel till the blood vessels 
stood out like whipcords and his Angers 
turned blue. It was his leader. 

A dog? More than a dog! Almost a 
human being to him. Five years the dog 
had served him. Now like a flash he saw 
the weary trail, — Dawson, Fairbanks, 
Valdese, Circle City, Nome, — all these 
spread before him, joined one to the other 
by wild passes and wind-blown rivers. 


170 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


And over all these this leader had brought 
him in safety. He saw, too, a deserted 
cabin where he lay ill with only this dog to 
guard him and to bring him aid at last. 
And now — now ? Was this leader, his 
more than friend, to die such a death ? It 
was impossible. Instinctively he raised his 
rifle, and aimed at the boy. Instantly he 
came to himself, with a shudder at thought 
of what he willed to do. He threw the 
rifle from him, only to snatch it up an in- 
stant-later. This time it was aimed at the 
old gray leader, who was running slowly 
now, an easy shot from where he stood. 
If this, his friend, must die, let it be by his 
hand ; it were kinder so. 

But from one corner of his eye he saw 
the Eskimo boy lower his rifle once more, 
then lay it down and put one hand to his 
mouth. An instant after there sounded 
out on the still air a shrill whistle. At 
sound of it the great, gray dog turned, 
hesitated an instant, then started slowly 
back toward the Eskimo boy. 


A GRATEFUL MINER 


171 


Luther dropped limply to the hard- 
crusted snow. The rifle clattered from his 
nerveless hand, while something like 
“Thank God !” escaped from his trembling 
lips. 

A moment later he saw the Eskimo boy 
reach down and grasp the chain which the 
leader dragged in the snow. Hearing the 
ring of footsteps on the hard-packed snow 
behind him, as he led the dog to his tent, 
Kituk turned to face the miner. He held 
the chain out to him in silence. 

“Thanks.” There was a deep hoarse 
tremble in the man’s voice, but that was 
all he said, as he turned and tramped 
away, followed by his dog. 

The four hours of midwinter daylight 
had faded by the time the miner reached 
his cabin. After chaining the leader care- 
fully to his kennel, he heaped a great tray 
of food for him, and turning toward the 
Cape, started directly away without paus- 
ing to enter the cabin for food. Stolidly 
he tramped along, his head down, making 


172 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


the bends of the winding road, the path 
that led about Cape Prince of Wales 
Mountain to the government man’s house 
and the Eskimo village. The ice piles 
cast great dark shadows everywhere, and 
here and there great white pillars reared 
to the sky like graven stones. Over it 
all the golden moon shone in all its glory. 
The cool night breeze fanned the man’s 
cheek, but he saw nothing, felt nothing. 
He was living within himself, and at 
times his thoughts were far away. At 
length he reached the foot of the moun- 
tain on the other side, and climbing the 
path which led to the government man’s 
house, entered without knocking. 

Thompson, who was just putting a 
kettle of mulligan on the stove, glanced 
over the yellow blaze of his candle with 
the expectation of seeing one of his Eskimo, 
and gave a start as he realized who his 
visitor was. 

‘‘You know that wood we was talking 
about last week,” Luther began hastily, 


A GRATEFUL MINER 


173 


before Thompson had finished his surprised 
‘‘Hello!” “You know that wood. Well, 
you just tell the natives to come over and 
get it, any of it, all of it, any time they 
need it. I — I guess I’ve been an old fool.” 
[ Again Thompson was too astonished to 
speak. “What has come over the man.^” 
he thought to himself. ! 

“Say,” the miner went on, as he twisted 
his squirrel-skin cap in his hand and sat 
on the edge of a chair like a schoolboy, 
“you know that Eskimo boy, Kituk. 
W^ell, that’s some boy ! He could have 
killed my leader to-day, and had a right, 
and he didn’t. And you don’t know what 
that leader means to me! No, you don’t; 
you haven’t lived in this land long enough 
for that.” 

“WTiat’d he do.^” asked Thompson, 
at last finding his tongue, as he began to 
see through things. 

“Well, sir, he just whistled him back. 
W' here’s there another Eskimo that would 
think to do a thing like that?” 


174 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


‘‘Kituk’s diflerent/’ Thompson said 
slowly. ‘‘I guess he used his common 
sense. He had my permission to kill the 
dog, and I told him I’d back him. But he 
likes dogs. He admires your dogs. I’ve 
often heard him speak of them. But all 
the same, if it’s not your dogs that are 
getting our deer, I’d like to know what is ! 
That’s a problem that is not solved, and 
perhaps you can help us solve it.” 

For some time the two white men sat 
and talked by the yellow candle light. 
They talked of mining, of deer herds, 
of the Eskimos, and as they talked, 
the tie which binds real men together, 
once they understand each other, grew 
stronger. 

At last Thompson rose and smiling 
said, ‘‘Excuse me, but I think the 
mulligan’s done. Let’s eat.” 

It was only after the meal had been 
eaten and they were once more sitting by 
the fire that Thompson took down from 
the window sill the samples of quartz 


A GRATEFUL MINER 


175 


which Kituk had found. He handed them 
to the miner. 

“That’s tin; placer tin,” the miner 
exclaimed, excited in an instant. 
“Where’d you get it.f^” 

‘‘The Eskimo boy who saved your dog 
to-day found it on Lost River, four miles 
from the beach.” 

It was good to see the old look fade 
from the miner’s face, and the look of real 
boyish enthusiasm come in its stead. 

“Young man,” he said slowly, “if 
there’s enough of it there, you and that 
Eskimo boy have made your fortunes.” 

“And also a miner by the name of 
Luther”; the government man smiled 
back. “We’ll have to have a practical 
miner in with us.” 

The miner held the hand of the younger 
man in a grip of iron. “Young man, you 
can trust me.” 

f “I know it! Even before you told me 
you were going to be the Eskimo man’s 
friend.” 


176 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


Far into the night the two men discussed 
the plans for this new prospect ; how they 
would borrow the steam-boiler from the 
tin mining company and sled it over to 
the Lost River claims, which they must 
stake at once. How they would sink a 
shaft through the frozen ground to bed 
rock by thawing first and digging after; 
how they would prospect in this way till 
the pocket was discovered, and then how 
they would sack their ore and cart it to 
the beach to be carried away to the 
smelters on the ‘‘outside.” 

“But we’ll have to have coal!” ex- 
claimed the miner, “and there isn’t an 
extra hundred pounds down at the cabin.” 

For an instant it seemed that all their 
well-laid plans would come to naught, when 
suddenly the miner leaped to his feet. 

“I know,” he exclaimed; “the Sadie 
went aground on the sand bar twenty 
miles above here last fall.” 

“Yes?” 

“Well, she was loaded with coal.” 


A GRATEFUL MINER 


177 


‘‘Who owned her?” 

“The company I work for, and I know 
she is high and dry, for I was by there not 
many weeks ago. The boss’ll let us take 
all the coal we need, for she’ll break up 
when the ice goes out.” 

Picking up his cap, the miner went on 
his way back to his cabin. This time he 
saw the glory of the moonlight and the 
great shadows of the night. He bared 
his brow to the night air, and something 
very near a prayer of thanksgiving and 
benediction welled up in his soul. 

The next morning Luther called his 
employer by telephone and asked per- 
mission to save the coal and haul some of 
it down on Kituk’s gasoline schooner 
before the shore ice broke- up. 

“Sure,” exclaimed the magnate, heartily. 
“Take all you can use. It’s Wainwright 
coal and not very good ; pretty well 
slacked by this time, I guess, but it’ll do. 
Don’t want to tell me what you’ve got up 
there that’s so mteresting?” 


178 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


‘‘Not yet.” 

“All right, don’t. And say, — if you 
can save the steamer along with the coal, 
you’re welcome. We’ve got a line on her, 
but we don’t intend doing anything about 
it. Guess you can’t either, but if you can, 
go ahead !” 

“I wonder if we could,” the miner 
mused, as he hung up the receiver and 
turned to his work. 


CHAPTER XVII 


KITUK A PRISONER 

“I don’t understand it,” said Thomp- 
son, shaking his head, “It’s all very 
puzzling. You say there is always one 
deer missing beside the one the wolf or 
dog kills? That isn’t the way deer run 
away from the herd, is it? If they leave 
the herd it is almost always in twos and 
threes, or more, isn’t it?” 

“Almost always,” said Kituk. 

For a time the two sat in silence. The 
herd had been stampeded and driven away 
six times that winter, and always two deer 
had been missing. Nearly always one was 
found killed by dogs or wolves, but never 
more than one. This problem must be 
solved. Was it Luther’s dogs, after all? 
If so, what became of the other deer each 


180 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


time ? They were slow to believe it could 
be the dogs. But wolves are seldom seen 
on the coast. What could it be.^ 

The matter was becoming serious. 
Time and again men had lost deer who, 
like old Kitmesuk, could ill afford to lose 
them, and there seemed to be no stopping 
the raids, for though the herders had 
sought far and wide for wolves and had 
set traps for them, none had been cap- 
tured. 

‘‘One strange thing about it,’’ said 
Kituk at last, “is that they always go 
toward Ear Mountain when they are 
stampeded.” 

“That may be an accident and it may 
be a sign,” said Thompson. “You better 
take Tdariuk and drive over that way 
some day. It may be that there is a 
wolf’s den over there.” 

Tdariuk was the finest sled deer of the 
whole herd. Many of the deer were wild 
and foolish ; not so Tdariuk. He could be 
driven with two lines, and answered to 


KITUK A PRISONER 


181 


the guide of the reins as surely as the best 
horse in the world. It was always a 
pleasure to drive him, and it was with a 
bounding heart that the Eskimo boy wel- 
comed such an adventurous trip with such 
a steed. He resolved to be away the very 
next morning. 

On the next morning he was indeed on 
his way, but under quite other conditions 
than he had expected. The herd had been 
stampeded again during the night and had 
gone as before toward Ear Mountain, 
which on a clear day might be seen from 
the Cape, looming away in the distance. 

Hastily harnessing the splendid sled 
deer, Kituk called one of the herders to 
join him, and went spinning away over the 
trail of the deer herd. Here and there he 
saw once more the tracks of the wolf or 
dog who had done the mischief. These 
they had followed for twenty miles, when 
seeing the trail on a ridge beyond, and here 
having taken a short cut, Kituk noticed 
some strange indications of a track in the 


182 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


hard-crusted snow. This track, or what- 
ever it was, had made the same short cut 
he was taking. Here Kituk lost it, and here 
he found it again. There was really no 
distinctive track, such as a man makes on 
snowshoes or skis ; nor such as the great 
white bear or gray wolf makes. It was 
merely a denting of the hard snow here, 
the scraping of the edge of a snow ridge 
there ; that was all, and for rods at a time 
there would be nothing at all. Had it not 
taken the same general direction Kituk 
was following, he might have lost it at 
once. As it was he became accustomed to 
following the peculiar indications of a track, 
and even after it had crossed the trail of 
the reindeer herd, or the trail of the herd 
had crossed it, — he was unable at once to 
tell which, — he was able to pick it up 
again and follow it beyond where the herd 
had at last stopped and the carcass of a 
young deer showed where the beast had 
caught its prey. It had not been the owner 
of this strange track which had killed the 


KITUK A PRISONER 


18 S 


deer; that plainly was a wolf or a dog. 
But what was this strange track? The 
mystery of it fascinated the Eskimo boy. 
Looking to the loading of his rifle he bade 
the Eskimo herder return to camp with the 
deer, while he went on toward Ear Moun- 
tain, which was now but fifteen miles to 
the southward. 

As he followed the strange trail, Kituk 
became more and more convinced that the 
creature which made it was not at any 
time following the deer, but had gone in 
the opposite direction. 

Strange sensations passed over him as 
he came nearer and nearer to the great 
white mountain, which now seemed to 
loom directly over him. The Eskimo 
people seldom visited this mountain. 
Some of them said it was inhabited by evil 
spirits. Kituk, of course, did not believe 
this. But what sort of a creature was it 
that perhaps did inhabit the mountain, 
and made such undistinguishable tracks, 
and which he felt sure was in some strange 


184 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


way connected with the disappearance of 
the reindeer? 

Tdariuk’s hoofs cracked together as she 
trotted forward, guided now and then by a 
pull of the line. Aside from this there 
was not a sound to greet the ear. When 
Kituk halted the reindeer to get a better 
look at the track in the snow, a death- 
like silence pervaded all. It was almost 
spooky, and the spell was not lessened by 
the silent fall of twilight. Darkness would 
soon reign over the land ; but not for long, 
for this was near the springtime, and soon 
the sun would be shining day and night. 
The nights now were hardly four hours long, 
and it mattered little to the boy whether 
he found shelter or not. He had food on 
his sled and a sleeping bag. As for 
Tdariuk, there was plenty of reindeer moss 
beneath the crusted snow for him, and he 
knew well enough how to obtain it. 

Kituk was thinking of these things when 
he noted a dark spot, like the opening to 
a cavern, just before him in the side of the 


KITUK A PRISONER 


185 


mountain. He slowed the deer down to a 
walk. As they approached the mountain 
they made not the least noise. They were 
within twenty feet of the opening into the 
side of the mountain, when Kituk stopped 
his deer altogether and gripped his rifle. 
Here was a strange thing. He had known 
many men who had visited Ear Mountain, 
but from none of them had he heard of a 
cave in the side of the mountain. And 
yet here it was, all covered with snow, it is 
true, yet an opening apparently leading 
right into the mountain. And the strange 
tracks led straight to it ! What sort of a 
beast lived here? White bears often left 
the ocean ice floes and wandered away into 
the mountains for rest. Kituk had fre- 
quently seen such tracks leading away 
shoreward. If this were a white bear, 
some one must have plucked out his toe- 
nails, for here was not the least scratch 
on the surface of the snow. Kituk’s mind 
worked quickly. There could be only one 
creature living there, a man ! 


186 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


“Hands up!” The sharp command 
came from behind the boy. He had not 
thought to look behind him as he traveled. 
Now, as he did look about, he instinctively 
obeyed the command, for two rough-look- 
ing men stood not twenty feet from him 
with rifles leveled at his head. At their 
feet lay two hind-quarters of reindeer, 
and on their feet were snowshoes covered 
on the bottom with split walrus skin. 
These, then, had made the tracks. He had 
made the discovery, however, too late. 
He was trapped. 

One of the men came forward and tied 
the boy’s hands behind him. The other 
followed, as they led him into the opening 
in the mountain, which proved to be only 
a rough snow house lined with canvas and 
splashed over on the outside with water 
and snow to hide the marks of their snow 
knife. This was evidently a robber’s den. 
There were signs everywhere of the feasts 
they had had on the Eskimos’ reindeer 
during the long winter. Deersjkins lined 


KITUK A PRISONER 


187 


the wall ; deerskin mukluks hung drying 
on the lines, while half a dozen deer legs 
were tanning in a corner. They had 
doubtless trained their dogs to stampede 
the deer ; had killed one for themselves and 
allowed the dogs to kill another as a blind. 
“The wasteful brutes!” Kituk hissed 
under his breath. But he was due for 
further shocks. 

“It’s as well we got the kid,” one of 
the men was saying; “it’s time we were 
getting out of here. We’ll need the sled 
deer to help haul the stuff, and we can kill 
him for meat later. See?’" 

“Kill Tdariuk for meat!” Kituk’s blood 
boiled. “Kill Tdariuk!” Tdariuk was 
worth five meat deer ! Besides, he was a 
pet:;and prize of the herd. It did not seem 
possible that these rough men could do 
such a thing. Yet to remonstrate was 
useless. There was nothing he could do 
at present. He would be carefully 
watched, and he must bide his time. 

Two hours had elapsed since Kituk had 


188 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


been led into the hut when a third man 
entered, bringing two snarling gray wolf- 
hounds with him. These had been the 
accomplices of the robbers; they were the 
ones which had nearly caused the death 
of Luther’s splendid leader. 

The man threw Kituk some bits of raw 
reindeer meat. ‘‘Raw meat’s what these 
huskies eat,” one of them grumbled to 
another. Kituk ate as best he could, for 
he must be strong and ready for every 
emergency. 

The men were all white men, but they 
spoke brokenly and with a foreign accent. 
Sometimes they spoke in an entirely different 
language from any he had ever heard 
before. From the drift of their conversa- 
tion, he became sure that they were plan- 
ning to leave at once. But where might 
they go that the strong arm of the white 
man’s law could not catch them ? He 
thought for a long time. At last he 
remembered. Where, sure enough ? Would 
they dare it ? Only three of them ? What 


KITUK A PRISONER 


189 


would they do with him ? Would they take 
him with them ? How could they go ? 

One of the men had been out for some 
time. When he returned, he talked long 
and excitedly in low tones. Kituk could 
catch only a word now and then. One of 
the words which came out oftenest was 
‘‘Reindeer.” They all seemed very much 
disturbed. Could it be possible that 
Tdariuk had escaped and gone back to the 
herd ? How he hoped it was true ! But 
his mind was quickly turned from these 
thoughts, for the men were beginning to 
make preparations for departure and de- 
manded that he assist in the packing, 
though they kept his feet loosely tied 
together that he might not escape. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE RESCUE 

One thought cheered Kituk as he 
struggled along, dragging away at the 
heavy load of reindeer meat : old Tdariuk 
was safe from the clutches of the three 
villains who had taken him prisoner. Just 
how he had escaped was a question, but 
that he had escaped was beyond doubt. 
He was not there helping with the loads 
of meat, and his meat was not on the 
sled, so he must be free. 

They had made only a short distance 
that first night. They had camped in 
the midst of the willows that skirted the 
banks of the Little Roebuck River during 
the day. Kituk had prayed that none of 
his Eskimo friends would come upon them 
unawares, for it would mean sure death. 


THE RESCUE 


191 


The men took turns watching while the 
others slept. It became more and more 
apparent that these were desperate fellows 
who would stop at nothing. At times 
Kituk wondered what his own fate would 
be; but for the most part he thought 
only of the immediate future when the 
galling harness would once more be across 
his back, while the three men cursed at 
him and at the dogs, first in English and 
then in that strange tongue which was so 
unfamiliar to him. 

Just at dusk they started once more on 
their journey, the robbers keeping a sharp 
watch out for signs of miners or reindeer 
herders, while they urged the two tired 
gray dogs and Kituk to added effort in 
the harness. To the Eskimo boy, accus- 
tomed as he was to the great freedom of 
his own people, this slavery was almost 
worse than death, but he braced his 
heart for the continued ordeal, inspired 
by the thought that he might yet Jive 
to escape. 


192 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


The men were heading toward the sea. 
It was evident that they intended to reach 
Bering Straits and cross them. But how? 
They had no boat. Even if they had one, 
perhaps the Straits had not cleared of the 
winter’s ice floes. They were taking an 
awful risk, for they could not remain 
long on the shore ice without detection. 
Surely they did not mean to attempt to 
cross the Straits on the floating ice?. An 
Eskimo might do this with his power of 
endurance and his great knowledge of ice 
floes, but a white man, never ! 

Suddenly Kituk gave a start. The 
whaleboats ! Why had he not thought 
of them before ? Yes, they meant to 
steal a whaleboat, one of his people’s 
great^skin boats, and cross the Straits 
in it ! Every year at this time in the 
spring, the Eskimo drew their great skin 
boats far out on the solid shore ice, two 
miles from land. Here they reared them 
high on ice piles and kept a watch day 
and night for whales. This watch was 


THE RESCUE 


193 


kept from their homes on the side of 
Cape Prince of Wales Mountain. If a 
whale was sighted, there was the boat 
call, ‘‘Tomai! Tomai!” and at once all 
the hunters rushed down to the beach, 
across the shore ice, and launching their 
thirty-five-foot skin boats, went after the 
great black prey which meant so much 
for them, if they chanced to be fortunate 
in the hunt. These, also, were their 
walrus-hunting canoes. The loss of one 
of these canoes would mean the loss of 
many walrus, and would cause starvation 
or near starvation for the families of the 
ten brave fellows who manned the canoe. 

As Kituk thought of this, he felt a 
cold wave of hatred run through his body. 
He wanted to tell the men to kill him if 
they would. But this would only mean 
suicide; they would not hesitate to kill 
him. Then, if necessary, they would put 
their own shoulders in the harness and 
have their way all the same. Perhaps the 
time would come when he might effectively 


194 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


block their progress ; this would be worth 
his life. He would struggle on. 

Meanwhile, things were happening in 
the herder’s camp. Tdariuk, the sled deer, 
had returned. They had found him one 
morning among his comrades. But his 
carefully whittled half -collars of wood, 
with the heavy strap fastened to them, 
were still on his shoulders. The strap 
was slapping between his legs. His halter 
strap was broken close to his head. 

“Look!” exclaimed Allockeok, one of 
the herders. “Something must have gone 
wrong ! ” 

“Yes,” said another, “he has broken 
loose and come home.” 

“Worse than that,” said Allockeok ex- 
citedly, “Kituk never tied him in the 
first place. He is not the fellow to un- 
fasten him from his sled and leave the 
harness on him. That is contrary to our 
rules, as you know, and Kituk is a first- 
class herder. Some one else has tied 
Tdariuk. Either Kituk is sick among 


THE RESCUE 


195 


friends, or something worse has happened 
to him. We must find Tdariuk’s tracks 
and follow them.” 

Hastily loading their rifies, and calling 
on the yellow collie dog to follow them, 
they cut off across the tundra toward 
Ear Mountain. The yellow dog was soon 
on the trail of Tdariuk and was back- 
tracking him at a rate that would have 
tired any but these hardy denizens of the 
north. They reached the snow shack in 
the side of the mountain just at dusk of 
the second day after the robbers had left 
it. 

Every indication here went only to 
confirm their fears for Kituk. They no 
longer believed him to be ill; they were 
quite sure of the real truth of the matter, 
as soon as they had had a good look at 
the snow house. 

“Looks bad !” said Allockeok, tightening 
the string to his parka and turning to 
follow this new trail. But the others 
were not so hardy as this leader of theirs. 


196 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


They must have a bite to eat and an 
hour’s rest. Allockeok, chafing at this 
delay, walked about for half an hour, 
then caught a wink of sleep and was 
ready to proceed with the others. 

“They are making for Bering Straits!” 
said Allockeok, after they had followed in 
silence for three hours. “The fioe ice 
cleared from the channel two days ago. 
Ah-ne-ca! Will they steal a skin boat?” 

“Matna!” exclaimed another. “There 
are not more than three of them. How 
could they launch it?” 

“With the pooksacks they could do it 
easily.” The pooksacks were skins of 
bearded seal,* sewed air-tight, and filled 
with air. These were used by the natives 
as rollers, and on them the boats could 
easily be skidded into the water. 

“We might as well leave their trail and 
go directly to Cape Prince of Wales. We 
can travel in daylight that way, and can 
get help at the village,” advised Allockeok. 

On the third night from the Ear Moun- 


THE RESCUE 


197 


tain camp, Kituk found himself stagger- 
ing along among the giant ice piles that 
gleamed white in the moonlight. He had 
fallen three times from exhaustion, but 
the men, now adding their strength to 
the load, had dragged him to his feet 
each time and with many a curse and cuff 
had bade him “Mush!’’ Yet he had not 
given up hope. For generation after gen- 
eration his ancestors had not suffered 
from cold, darkness, and famine for 
naught. His was a sturdy soul. 

Suddenly, he thought he caught a 
glimpse of a dark spot above an ice pile. 
Numbed as he was by pain, his eyes were 
yet sharper than those of his captors. 
Could it be that something had happened 
to tell his people of his trouble ? Had 
they come to his rescue.^ His heart beat 
wildly. How they could shoot, those 
hunters of the great white bear and the 
walrus ! He knew the end of any en- 
counter between them and these ruffians. 

He gave a quick lunge forward and fell 


198 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


flat upon his pull rope. With a curse 
two of the men went sprawling after him. 
Instantly there was a sharp command. 

“Hands up! You!” Kituk recognized 
the gruff voice of the miner, Luther. At 
the same instant, he saw the gleam of a 
dozen rifle barrels. They seemed to be 
protruding from behind every ice pile and 
pillar. 

There was no shooting. The ruffians, 
always cowards at heart, realizing that 
they were surrounded by great odds and 
that they had no chance to fight their 
way to safety, threw up their hands and 
were soon disarmed. 

Tender hands lifted the exhausted boy 
from the harness and bathed his swollen 
shoulders. Then in triumph they carried 
him away to the village on the sled which 
he had helped to draw with so much pain. 

The next day, in answer to a ’phone call, 
the deputy United States Marshal from 
Teller came to the Cape to take the robbers 
to jail. 


THE RESCUE 


199 


“They are Russian exiles who escaped 
across the Straits some months ago,” the 
deputy explained. “Not political prison- 
ers, but real criminals. Dangerous fel- 
lows, too ! You are fortunate to be alive,” 
he said, turning to Kituk. “They’d kill 
in a minute ! They have doubtless dis- 
guised themselves and worked in a mine. 
That’s how they got a little of our lan- 
guage. But they soon found what seemed 
an easier way. Thanks to you, their 
forays are now at an end.” 

“Thanks to Tdariuk,” said Kituk 
modestly. 

“Tdariuk should have a gold ring for 
his antlers,” said the deputy. 

“And so he should have, if he didn’t 
have such a bad habit of shedding his 
old antlers every year,” smiled Thompson ; 
“but as it is, I think the greatest honor 
we can bestow upon him is to give him 
for a master his best-loved driver, Kituk. 
What do you say, Kituk How’d you 
like that?” 


200 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


“I’d like nothing better,” smiled Kituk, 
choking a bit. “He’s the king of the 
herd.” 

“And may you drive him for many a 
winter,” said Thompson heartily, as he 
prepared to start the deputy and his 
charges on their way. 

Luther was overjoyed at this conclusive 
proof that it had not been his dogs that 
had stampeded the deer. The incident 
served to strengthen the bond between 
the three partners, who were soon to 
enter on the new mining venture. In a 
very few days, as soon as they were sure 
the Straits were permanently cleared of 
floe ice, they would go pop-popping away 
to the Northward in the Sea Wolf to 
determine what might be done about the 
Sadie and her cargo of coal. 


CHAPTER XIX 


SAVING THE SADIE 

Climbing to the top of a sand dune 
by the beach, Thompson looked away 
toward the point on which the Sadie 
had stranded. There she was now, her 
masts rearing in air, her hull standing 
out black against the whiteness of the 
ice which crowded about her on every 
side. She had been tossed high on the 
sand bar by the waves, but they had not 
been strong enough to break her. After 
that, the ice had crowded about her and 
sealed her up as solidly as the salmons 
in their cans. Ever since the miner had 
told him of the gift of the ship to their 
company, providing they were able to 
launch her, he had dreamed of ways that 
might bring her off the sand bar, and 
once more into service. 


202 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


She was not much of a craft. Large 
enough to be sure, — too large, in fact. 
She had been brought north in the boom 
days, loaded down with hopeful miners. 
She burned coal, and coal in this land 
was too expensive as fuel ; she had soon 
been driven from the sea by the cheaper 
gasoline crafts. This company which 
owned her now had decided to make her 
earn her fuel. They would take her to 
Wainwright, where there were low-grade 
coal mines in the very hills that over- 
shadowed the sea. They would load her 
with coal, and with supply on hand, they 
could use her with profit for freighting 
along the coast south of Nome. But 
here she was driven on the sand bar and 
deserted by her owners, who had con- 
cluded at last to abandon her. 

There is something appealing and ro- 
mantic about a good ship left stranded 
on the beach to be torn and racked by the 
storms, and at last to sink into the en- 
gulfing sands to be forgotten forever. 


SAVING THE SADIE 


203 


This was one of the motives which in- 
spired the boy, as he looked away at the 
craft. He believed, also, that the com- 
pany’s plan had been a good one. They 
had hired the wrong skipper, that was 
all, and he had run the Sadie on the sand. 
How then could he bring her off the sand 
bar and back into service ? She was 
directly on the point of the sand bar. 
The ice floe would be driving north when 
the break-up canie, but instead of taking 
her with it, the probability was that it 
would crush her sides in, and pass on, 
leaving her a prey to the waves. If only 
some means might be employed for carry- 
ing her off the point with the ice, she 
might yet fly the Stars and Stripes for 
many a year, doing valuable service on 
the low-grade Wainwright gcoal. But how ? 

As he stood there thinking, his mind 
went back over the winter months when 
with Luther, the miner, and Kituk, the 
Eskimo boy, he had spent hour after hour 
making plans for the placer tiur mine 


204 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


which they hoped would develop into a 
reality in the spring. They had gone to 
the spot on the Lost River and staked 
out their claims. Luther had staked one 
for his boy, Thompson one for his mother, 
and Kituk one for his father, making six 
claims in all. These were all duly re- 
corded in Nome. A contract had been 
drawn up, with very simple rules, it is 
true, and with very few conditions, but 
a very binding contract withal, for they 
were all honest men. 

When the days had lengthened till there 
were no nights at all, and the south wind 
had driven all the main ice floe to the 
northward, leaving the Straits black with 
tossing sea water, they had dragged the 
Sea Wolf to the water’s edge, over the 
two miles of solid shore ice which would 
remain for two or three weeks yet, and 
Kituk with two Eskimo companions had 
set sail for the ice nearest the point where 
the Sadie was stranded. Thompson and 
the miner had driven a team of horses 


SAVING THE SADIE 


205 


overland. These they would use in haul- 
ing some of the coal to the Sea Wolf, and 
the remainder to land where it might be 
picked up later. 

Thompson thought all this over, and 
then once again his mind turned to the 
problem of bringing the Sadie off the bar. 
And all at once a new thought came to 
him. Would it work.^ Well, at least the 
first thing would be to get the coal un- 
loaded. They must get at that at once. 

Two hours later they were all working 
faithfully at the heavy and dirty task of 
moving the low-grade coal to the Sea Wolf 
and to land. For a week, assisted by 
three Eskimo, they toiled unremittingly, 
pausing only for meals and a few hours 
of sleep. The sun was now shining day 
and night. They might work during the 
midnight or noonday hours and sleep as 
they pleased. 

When this work was completed, there 
came a few hours of exciting work, while 
they placed the anchor and cable of the 


206 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


ship in such a position as to enable it to 
assist the ship to move outward with the 
ice floe. Dragging the anchor far out on 
the ice floe, they attached its heavy chain 
and drew it tight. They then built a 
fire over it and allowed it to sink deep 
into the melting ice. 

^‘Now,” said Thompson, as the work 
was completed, ‘‘when the ice drift comes 
crowding on the shore ice from the south, 
the ice will be driven from the bar, and if 
the cable holds, the ship will be carried 
with it out to sea. To be sure, she is 
stuck a bit on the sand, but we have 
lightened her up by unloading the coal, 
and once she is free from the ice, which 
will have melted about her, I believe she 
will be light enough to loosen from the 
sand by the pull of the ice driven by the 
current and the great pressure behind it. 
There will be power enough, surely. Think 
of the force of the current on an ice floe 
fifteen or twenty miles long and six feet 
thick at every point ! The only question is, 


SAVING THE SADIE 207 

will the cable hold, and will the ice cake 
remain whole or will it split? If the cable 
breaks, or the ice cake splits, we are lost.” 

It was a long weary wait of eight days 
before the ice gave signs of loosening 
from the increasing pressure of the ice 
floes which had swept in from the Yukon 
Flats, and were now pressing with giant 
force all along the outer edge of the shore 
ice. Already the sun had melted the ice 
all along the south side of the schooner. 
There was a space of blue water there 
two feet wide, and it seemed to the 
watchers that at times they could see the 
steamer rise and fall, as if she were already 
free from the sand bar, but of this they 
could not be sure, for it might be only 
the rise and fall of the loosening shore 
ice. Every day they went to the anchor 
and studied its position and the condition 
of the ice. All seemed well. 

“It’s going out to-day,” said Luther, 
as he stepped from the tent one morning 
and looked away at the white ice. This 


208 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


seemed true, for already great cakes of 
ice were swinging in line with the main 
floe, while here and there great flats were 
rising in air and crumbling one upon 
another. It was a sight not to be soon 
forgotten ; those mighty powers, — the 
ocean, the ice floor, and spring, — doing 
battle to the death. But spring and the 
ocean were bound to win now and to 
hold sway for the short summer through." 

Closer and closer came the cleavage of 
shore ice; closer and closer to the ship, 
and the three partners stood watching 
with breathless suspense. 

‘‘The cake’s split!” Luther suddenly 
cried in dismay, as he went racing from 
the sand dune to the shore. Sure enough, 
the cake on which the anchor had been 
imbedded had split right at the point 
where the anchor had been placed. In- 
stantly all seemed lost. It seemed im- 
possible but that the anchor would slip 
down into this crack farther and farther, 
till at last it imbedded its great weight 


SAVING THE SADIE 


209 


in the soft sand of the shallow bed, and 
thus prove a menace rather than a help, 
a thing which held the schooner between 
one great cake and the ice floe like a nut 
in a vice. 

But by some strange chance, as the 
ice floe crowded the cake more and more 
out to sea, the anchor rose upon the edge 
of the ice cake and began slipping along 
so close that every moment it seemed 
as if it would fall into the sea. With eyes 
strained, the three watched. Now it was 
dragged so close to the brink that it 
seemed only a breath of wind would be 
required to topple it into the sea. And 
now they drew a relieved breath, for the 
anchor moved slightly away from the 
dangerous crack, which every moment 
grew wider. 

But again the ice cake swerved, and 
making an angle with the anchor chain, 
dragged the anchor closer, closer to the 
chasm. ’ 

The main ice cake by this time had 


210 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


broken in two places. The breaks were 
perpendicular each to each. The crack 
along which the anchor was dragging ran 
only halfway to the steamer. Should the 
anchor drag far enough along the edge of 
the chasm to allow it to hang down over 
the cake without touching bottom, there 
was yet a chance that the remaining ice 
cake would drag the steamer free from 
the sand bar and set her afloat. 

So they watched the anchor being 
dragged constantly nearer to the verge 
at an angle that now could mean but a 
few more moments of suspense. Thomp- 
son, with his knowledge of mathematics, 
automatically computed the time it would 
take to bring the anchor into the water. 

‘‘The water’ll have to be fifteen feet 
deep at that point,” he said, half uncon- 
sciously. 

“It’s twenty everywhere along there,” 
smiled the miner. 

“Then we’re safe.” Thompson sighed, 
as he dropped to a seat on the sand. 


SAVING THE SADIE 


211 


And they were, for as the anchor at 
last plunged into the water, the chain 
instantly began taking in slack, and very 
soon the top of the anchor appeared above 
the water. One prong of it had caught 
beneath the lower surface of the six-foot 
ice cake and there it held, while the 
schooner and the ice cakes joined in a 
creaking and groaning contest that seldom 
is equaled. But the schooner swung half 
around at last, in line with the ice, and 
began its outward course. 

With a hoarse shout, the three men 
rushed to the ice cakes just in time to 
leap aboard of them and to join their 
ship, as she swung out to sea. 

In a few hours steam was up. Slowly 
the ice cakes separated and left room for 
them to pass between. Then they 
steamed away toward Port Clarence. 


CHAPTER XX 


SUCCESS AT LAST 

Thompson, looking away at the drip- 
ping hillsides, listening to the rush of 
the milky waters of Lost River, allowed 
a heavy sigh to escape from his lips and 
his brow to wrinkle in a frown. It was 
not the dripping hillsides of springtime, 
nor the rushing waters of Lost River 
that troubled him. The ground in their 
“diggings” was frozen solid, and it was 
only necessary to drain the surface water 
away from their shaft and all was well. 
But all was not well otherwise. Luther 
was slaving away with pick and shovel 
and steam; he was fifteen feet below in 
the shaft, or Thompson would not have 
allowed the sigh to escape, or his brow 
to wrinkle.f He was keeping up courage. 


SUCCESS AT LAST 


213 


or at least seeming to, for Luther’s sake. 
This was the sixth shaft they had sunk 
in the last month, and always it had been 
the same story : A few lumps of tin here 
and there mixed with the gravel, but not 
enough to pay even for the sluicing, let 
alone shipping and smelting. Truly, it 
was disheartening. Luther had selected 
the spot which seemed most likely to 
cover the load of placer tin, but always 
it had been the same story, though they 
moved first twenty feet this way, then 
twenty feet that, and then twenty in some 
other direction. 

Sometimes Kituk had manned the wind- 
lass and coaled the steam-thawer, some- 
times it had been Thompson — all this 
depending upon the demands of their 
other duties. Luther had taken a month’s 
leave of absence, and had worked almost 
constantly below, relieved only now and 
then by one of his partners. 

For ten days now Thompson had kept 
up hope for the sake of his partner Luther. 


214 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


Who knew what utter failure would mean 
to this brawny miner ? Time and time 
again he had answered to the beckon of 
hope, only to find that he had followed 
a will-o’-the-wisp. Now, after three years 
of gloom and well-nigh despair, he had 
answered and followed once more. How 
black, then, would be his despair, if all 
were lost once more.^ As for Thompson, 
it was quite otherwise. It was his first 
venture. He was young. He might also 
return to his regular duties and be content 
with his slender income, so long as it 
sufiiced for him and for his family’s needs. 
It was the same with Kituk. But for 
Luther they had hoped and toiled on. Now 
they had come to the bottom of the sixth 
shaft with the same old result, — no tin. 
In a few moments Luther would call to 
be lifted from the shaft with the windlass, 
and then what.^ Thompson hardly dared 
ask himself. Would Luther have the cour- 
age for another attempt? If so, in what 
direction would it be ? Wo^ld he and 


SUCCESS AT LAST 


215 


Kituk stick to their post? He knew they 
would. Luther must be the first to say, 
“I’ve had enough.” 

“All right, pull me out,” came from 
below, and a moment later Luther stood 
beside him, a look of puzzled dismay on 
his face. 

“I don’t understand,” he said; “I 
know the tin is there. Why don’t we 
strike it?” 

He walked to the overhanging bank and 
examined it carefully. Then he walked 
on up the stream, still examining the lay 
of the land. “I may have misjudged the 
old bend of the stream,” he mumbled to 
himself, “but if we dig here, we’ll have 
to sink a shaft parallel with the stream 
and then drift under it. We’ll do it!” 
His lips tightened. He returned to his 
partner. 

“We’ve got to get our steamer up on 
that bank and sink a shaft there, then 
drift under the stream. The stream may 
have changed its course.” 


216 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


This new turn seemed madness, but 
Thompson had committed himself to the 
last move of the splendid old miner. So 
after hours of strenuous labor the boiler 
was in place and the steam pipe was being 
driven into the grass-covered clay bank 
for the first shovel of dirt. Here the shaft 
must be twenty-five feet deep. They had 
sent Kituk for additional wire-wound hose 
for conveying the steam, and were prepar- 
ing for a siege of the hard, unyielding 
earth, which had been frozen for who 
knows how many centuries? 

' They were five days in sinking this 
shaft, and when at last they were nearing 
the end, Luther, signaling to be hauled 
up, told Thompson to go below and let 
the Eskimo boy tend him while he caught 
a bit of a nap. He seemed utterly ex- 
hausted, and at the same time a trifie 
excited. 

“Perhaps he thinks this time he has 
found it. Let us hope so,” said Thomp- 
son, as he prepared to go below. “They 


SUCCESS AT LAST 


217 


say that old miners have — what is it 
they call them ? — hunches, I think. Let’s 
hope it is the right hunch this time.” 

|_For a time he wielded his pick and 
shovel, and drove his steam pipes as 
before, but soon his steam pipe struck 
something hard. It was the solid rock! 
He made a rapid mental calculation, and 
concluded at this point the rock was five 
feet higher than in their previous diggings. 
For an instant his heart sank; then it 
gave a great bound. If this were true, 
and it seemed beyond dispute, and if he 
were to drift to the right under the stream, 
he would at last come to the ledge of the 
rock where it had been worn away by the 
constant wash of the stream in its old 
bed, and who dared think what might 
be found in that five-foot drop of deposit 
whiSt lay beside the solid rock ? 

Feverishly, and in silence, he worked 
away till he had rounded out the shaft 
to the solid rock; then he began to drift 
toward the stream. Now he could hear 


218 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


the dull thud of the stream above him, 
as it dashed against the hard clay bank 
above. But here ten feet of solid frozen 
earth protected him. Who could wish for 
more.^ So he labored on, while the miner 
slept the drug-like sleep of utter exhaustion 
in the tent above. 

He had drifted away to the right for 
five feet. His arms ached ; his head 
whirled with the exertion. Kituk w^as 
uttering “Matnas” and “Ah-ne-cas” at 
the amount of dirt he was compelled to 
windlass to the surface, when at last 
Thompson gave a great shout. He had 
drifted away from the edge of the solid 
rock and out over the old bed of the 
stream for three feet, when, on cleaning 
the dirt and gravel from the bottom of 
his hole, he had found that the surface 
beneath was literally paved with tin ore ! 

“Let’s see!” Luther had wakened at 
the shout, and had rather tumbled than 
been lowered to the bottom of the shaft. 
The stoical Eskimo boy sat at the open- 


SUCCESS AT LAST 


219 


ing, cheerfully munching a pilot biscuit 
he had taken from the cooking kit. 

Thompson drew to one side and allowed 
the miner to enter the side drift. He 
flashed the flickering candle about for an 
instant, then he fell to his knees. ‘‘We’ve 
found it ! Thank God, we’ve found it ! ” 
he murmured, half to himself. Then for 
a long time both men were silent. 

When Luther rose he seemed half in a 
daze. “Excuse me,” he apologized. 
“You won’t understand. You’re young. 
But you know, when something like this 
happens, an old man like me has to get 
used to it a little at a time.” 

“It’s all right,” smiled Thompson. 
“You’ll have the rest of your life to get 
used to it, I hope, and nothing much else 
to do.” 

“Nobody wants it as easy as that,” 
said the grimy miner, as he gripped the 
hand of his young partner. “But it’s 
good to win, after all.” 

One day, a month later, Thompson was 


m 


CAPTAIN KITUK: 


working at the windlass, assisted by two 
husky Eskimos. Luther was below in the 
diggin’s, sending up the dirt which some 
Eskimos were assisting him to thaw out 
and load. Every third day they spent 
in sluicing the pay dirt and in sacking it. 
A bit down stream was a modest, b/it 
ever-growing, pile of ore sacks, and above 
were sacks of Wainwright coal for the 
steamer. Kituk had manned the Sadie 
with some of his own people, and had 
made a successful trip with her to the 
beach for the coal they had left there. 
A little later he would make a trip to 
Wainwright for another load of low-grade 
coal. They were busy and industriously 
happy. 

Chancing to look away toward the sea, 
Thompson sighted a stalwart man tramp- 
ing over the tundra. He recognized the 
magnate of Nome, and waved a salute to 
him. He had come on the invitation of 
the company, Luther, Thompson, and 
Kituk. He was a good man and an 


SUCCESS AT LAST 


m 

honest one. He could do them no harm. 

‘"Well,” he exclaimed, as he came up. 
‘'What you got here.^^” 

“Tin mine,” said Thompson. 

“Huh!” The magnate scratched his 
head. “Right under the grass, huh.^” 

“ Go down and see for yourself ; or are 
you afraid to ride the windlass rope?” 

“Try me!” 

A moment later Luther found his former 
employer standing beside him and grasp- 
ing his hand. When the magnate re- 
turned to the top, the rope was sent down 
for Luther, and then the three partners 
and the magnate were standing side by side. 

“You fellows have a good thing here,” 
said the magnate warmly. “A mighty 
good thing ! What’s your plans ?” 

Rapidly Thompson sketched their plans ; 
to bring coal from Wainwright, to wash 
their ore from the waters of Lost River, 
to cart their ore to the beach, and finally 
to carry it to San Francisco on their 
steamer Sadie, 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


222 

“It’s all very good but the last move,” 
said the magnate. “I know that craft 
Sadie better than you do. Let me warn 
you. Never attempt the Pacific with her 
loaded with tin ore. She’ll go to the 
bottom with the first storm, and you’ll 
go with her.” 

The partners stood in open-mouthed 
consternation. They had no reason to 
believe the magnate’s words were not true. 
It blocked their whole plans. 

“Now I’ll tell you,” said the magnate 
slowly, “I don’t want to over-persuade 
you, but it seems to me that you have 
brought the proposition to the point where 
capital legitimately steps in. There is 
such a point in all endeavor. That’s a 
thing that some men overlook to their 
ruin. Now, I don’t believe you fellows 
realize what a good thing you have here, 
and just to prove it to you, I’m going to 
make you a proposition.” He paused a 
moment. 

“You know our smelter at Tin City?” 


SUCCESS AT LAST 


223 


he went on. ‘‘Well, it’s rusting out for 
want of work. What is needed is a don- 
key railroad to haul the placer tin to our 
smelter. That won’t cost much, consider- 
ing the size of the proposition, but I take 
it you could hardly swing it. Now” — 
he paused again — “now. I’ll give you a 
flat price for the flrst hundred tons, and 
after that a royalty on the remaining 
output of your mine.” 

“How much.f^” breathed Thompson. 

The magnate wrote figures in the sand 
of the stream’s bank. All three men 
breathed a long breath of astonishment. 

“How can you do it?” Thompson ex- 
claimed in surprise. 

“It’s the output after the first hundred 
tons I’m after,” smiled the magnate. “If 
it’s not there, I lose. But I believe it’s 
there.” And again he wrote in the sand 
the per cent of royalty he was willing to 
pay. “Well, what do you say?” 

There was a hurried consultation of the 
three partners. The offer for immediate 


CAPTAIN KITUK 


224 

payment was quite enough to meet the 
immediate wishes of all, and the royalty 
bade fair to supply their needs for some 
years to come. They were all anxious to be 
about other things : Thompson and Luther 
to be back with their families, while Kituk 
felt called back to his trading. 

“Well, is it a go?” asked the magnate, 
as they returned to him. They all nodded. 

“Come with me to Nome,” he ex- 
claimed. “I’ll send a man to guard the 
place till I return to superintend opera- 
tions.” 

A week later Kituk was enjoying his 
first sight of the Pacific. He was on his 
way “outside” to purchase his larger 
gasoline schooner, which was to make all 
the Russian points, as well as those in 
Alaska. Thompson with a smile had al- 
ready prophesied that it would be white 
with red stripes. 

Beside Kituk, thinking of loved ones far 
away but coming every hour nearer, was 
Thompson, and with him the miner. 


SUCCESS AT LAST m 

Luther, who in a new store-suit and store- 
made shoes, looked quite the gentleman 
despite all his roughin^ it in the Arctic 
wilds. They all stood in silence and 
watched the sun sink into the sea. In 
three days they would be walking the 
streets of Seattle; Kituk was going ‘"out- 
side” to buy his new schooner, and the 
others were going “Home.” 


THE END 






TWO TALES OF THE FROZEN NORTH 


LITTLE WHITE FOX AND 
HIS ARCTIC FRIENDS 

By ROY J. SNELL 

Color Illustrations by George Kerr 

Author or “Captain Kituk” 

75 cents net 

Roy J. Snell, who has spent a great deal of time travel- 
ing in the Arctic Circle, has watched the animals and 
people, and studied them so that he knows just what 
they do and how they live. This fascinating book tel- 
ling of the adventures of Little White Fox and his friends 
in the frozen North, will be eagerly welcomed by all 
those readers who have learned to love Mother Nature’s 
children. 

“A delightfully entertaining book for small children.” — Boston 
Globe. 

“A nature book of educational value.” — Philadelphia Press. 

By THE SAME AUTHOR 

An Eskimo Robinson Crusoe 

Illustrated by George Kerr 

$ 1.00 net 

When Kituk, the little Eskimo lad, was set adrift on 
an ice-floe, he began a series of Robinson Crusoe adven- 
tures from which he returned greatly enriched by the 
things he had found on his travels. 

“A most entertaining narrative for small boys.” — Providence 
Journal. 

“It’s a dandy story for both boys and girls.” — Boston Globe. 


LITTLE, BROWN S CO., PuBIisLers 

34 BEACON STREET • • BOSTON. MASS. 





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